rientbtiri 


2S&--4* 


UNIFORM  WITH  "ORIENT"  SUNBEAMS 


ARCTIC     SUNBEAMS 

OR 

FROM  BROADWAY  TO  THE  BOSPHORUS 

BY  WAY  OF 
THE  NORTH  CAPE 


SAMUEL     S.    COX 


ILLUSTRATED 


ORIENT  SUNBEAMS 


OR 


FROM  THE  PORTE  TO  THE  PYRAMIDS, 


BY    WAY    OF    PALESTINE. 


BY 

SAMUEL  S.  COX, 

Author  of  "BUCKEYE  ABROAD,"    '•  EIGHT  YEARS  IN  CONGRESS,"  "  WINTER  SUNBEAMS,' 

"  WHY  WE  LAUGH,"  "  FREE  LAND  AND  FREE  TRADE," 

"ARCTIC  SUNBEAMS,"  Etc. 


"  The  changing  seasons  and  the  march  of  time, 
The  trees,  the  flowers,  the  fields,  the  rivers,  Thine ! 
Heaven,  earth  and  sea,  in  one  harmonious  chime, 
Hymn  forth  the  HOLY  GOD — the  Beautiful,  Sublime  !" 

— MulUr. 


NEW  YORK 

G.    P.    PUTNAM'S    SONS 

27  AND  29  WEST  230  STREET 

1882 


COPYRIGHT, 

1882, 
Bv  G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS. 


Press  of 

G.  P,  Putnam's  Sons 
New    York 


CONTENTS   OF  VOLUME   II. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE 

The  Upper  Bosphorus — A  Home  of  Healing  and  a  Circle  of  Delight. . .       I 


CHAPTER  II. 
The  Upper  Bosphorus — Scenes  and  Associations 8 

CHAPTER  III. 
The  Towers  of  Europe  and  the  American  College 22 

CHAPTER  IV. 

The  Upper  Bosphorus — Prophecies  of  Turkish  Decay — Giant's  Mount- 
ain— Jason— Classic  Scenes 37 

CHAPTER  V. 

Excursion  to  the  Ancient  Ottoman  Capital — Broussa  and  its  Attractions    46 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Constantinople  and  its  People — Walls,  Gates  and  Towers 56 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Among  the  Churches  and  Cemeteries  and  Around  the  Walls  of  Con- 
stantinople      66 

v 


vi  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

PACK 

Around  Constantinople  —  Among    the  Dead  —  Fortune-Telling  —  Sacred 

Waters  ....................................................      76 


CHAPTER   IX. 

The  Old  Seraglio  —  St.  Sophia—  The  Old  Greek  Hippodrome—  The 

Museum  of  Ancient  Costumes  —  Among  the  Howling  Dervishes.  .  .     85 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  Changes  in  the  Turkish  Capital  Within  Thirty  Years—  Dynasty 

and  Dynamite  —  The  Tombs  of  the  Sultans  .....................    104 


CHAPTER  XI. 

The  Ottoman  Empire  as  seen  teneath  the  Surface  —  Its  Degeneracy  — 
Its  Corruption  and  Venality  —  The  Dead  Turkish  Parliament  —  The 
United  States  and  Turkey  ....................................  117 


CHAPTER  XII. 
Reception  by  the  Sultan  .  .   .......................................   135 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Constantinople  —  Other  Changes  in  Thirty  Years  ....................   154 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Through  the  Dardanelles  with  an  Irish  Captain  —  Sea  Coasts  of  Asia 
and  its  Dead  Empires  and  Cities  —  Domesticities  of  the  People  — 
Arabs  as  Cattle  Drovers—  Jews  Persecuted  —  Beirut  reached  .......  169 

CHAPTER  XV. 

City  of  Smyrna  —  Waters  of  Poesy  and  Mythology  —  Ill-Fated  Chios  ....  193 


CONTENTS.  vii 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

PAGS 

An  Ephesian  Day 206 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
Ephesus — Her  Divinities  and  her  Divinity 2l8 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

On  the  Way  to  Damascus 230 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Damascus — Its  Wonders   and   Glories,   Massacres   and   Mosques — Its 

Tombs  and  Walls — Its  Apostolic  Memories  and  Grave  of  Buckle. .  241 

CHAPTER  XX. 
A  Hebrew  House  in  Damascus — Damascus  Mirth  and  Music 262 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
On  to  the  Holy  City — Jaffa — Latrone — Ramleh — Jerusalem  ..........  271 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

West  Walls  of  Jerusalem — Jaffa  Gate — Hebrew   History — Jews  and 

Their  Wailing  Place  and  Hope 286 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

The  Star  in  the  East — What  Bethlehem  is  to-day — Scenes  of   the 

Saviour's  Birthplace , 301 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

The  Holy  Places  of  Christianity— Olivet  and  Bethany— The  Scene  of 

the  Ascension 316 


•  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

PACE 

The  Holy  Places  of  Christianity — A  Sunday  in  Jerusalem — Tomb  of 

David — The  Crucifixion  and  Sepulchre 327 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 
Site  of  the  Temple  of  Solomon — Mosques  and  Moslems 339 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

A  Walk  on  Holy  Ground — The  Soldiers,  Pilgrims,  Tourists  and  Money 
Changers — -Round  About  Jerusalem — The  Pool  of  Bethesda — A 
Visit  to  the  Tombs  of  the  Kings 352 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

Egypt's  Faded  Glories — Alexandria  and  Cairo — The  View  from  the 

Citadel — A  drive  to  Heliopolis — A  Glance  at  the  Pyramids 361 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

The  Ancient  and  Modern  Land  of  the  Pharaohs — Visit  to  the  Sphinx 
and  the  Great  Pyramid  of  Cheops 373 

CHAPTER  XXX. 
The  Pyramids  and  Tombs 387 

CONCLUDING  CHAPTER. 
Boulak  Museum — Farewell  to  the  Nile 403 


LIST    OF   ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PACE 

TOWERS  OF  EUROPE  (ROMOLO-HISSAR) Frontispiece 

THE  SULTAN'S  PALACE 56 

MOSLEM  AT  PRAYER 188 

AQUEDUCT  AT  EPHESUS 216 

THE  CITY  OF  EPHESUS  (FROM  MOUNT  CORESSUS) 218 

RUINS  OF  EPHESUS  220 

DIANA  EPHESIA 222 

GATE  OF  CITADEL.    EPHESUS 224 

WALL  OF  DAMASCUS.  , 254 

TOMB  OF  ABSALOM 324 

THE  HOLY  SEPULCHRE 334 

ASCENT  OF  THE  PYRAMIDS 396 

ix 


INTRODUCTORY     CHAPTER. 


THIS  is  a  companion  volume  to  "Arctic  Sun- 
beams ;  or,  From  Broadway  to  the  Bosphorus, 
by  way  of  the  North  Cape." 

It  continues  the  story  of  a  summer  travel  in  1881. 

After  a  restful  sojourn  in  the  capital  of  the  Turk- 
ish empire,  it  takes  the  reader  through  the  holy 
places  of  Mohammedan,  Hebrew,  and  Christian,  to 
that  land  of  old  renown,  Egypt.  It  indulges  in 
observations  upon  the  present  condition  of  the  em- 
pire of  Othman,  and  its  principal  and  most  inter- 
esting dependencies.  Within  this  shining  crescent 
of  travel,  Ephesus,  Damascus,  and  Jerusalem  are  of 
course  included. 

This  volume,  like  its  predecessor,  photographs 
for  the  eye,  rather  than  elucidates  for  the  mind. 
The  photograph  does  not  disdain  to  picture  the 
humblest  hyssop  on  the  wall ;  and  it  presumes  to 
reproduce  the  wall  itself,  with  its  moats  and  turrets, 
sieges  and  histories. 

From  pine  to  palm,  from  pole  to  pyramid,  from 
the  midnight  sun  of  the  North  to  its  beams  in  the 
Orient,  the  least  as  well  as  the  greatest  of  objects 
have  provoked  reverent  suggestions  and  enthu- 
siasms, which,  in  the  absence  of  sedate  study,  may 
afford  recreation  to  the  Dreader,  as  they  did  to  the 
author. 


FROM  POLE  TO  PYRAMID. 


CHAPTER   I. 

THE    UPPER    BOSPHORUS— A    HOME     OF    HEALING   AND  A 
CIRCLE  OF  DELIGHT. 

"'Twas  a  place  to  revel,  to  smother,  to  drown 

In  a  bliss  inferred  by  the  poet ; 
For  if  ignorance  be  indeed  a  bliss 
What  blessed  ignorance  equals  this. 
To  sleep, — and  not  to  know  it  ?  " 

—HOOD'S  MISS  KILMANSEGG. 

IT  is  Sabbath  morning  on  the  European  shore 
of  the  Bosphorus.  Domiciled  with  our  consul 
and  minister,  we  are  at  home.  "  Interterritoriality" 
is  the  international  doctrine  and  technical  term,  and 
we  feel  its  solace  in  all  its  length  ;  for  who  could 
be  more  comfortable,  after  our  long  journey,  than 
ourselves  under  the  roof  of  our  courteous  consul, 
Mr.  Heap,  and  his  affable  wife  ?  Besides,  is  not 
General  Wallace,  the  new  minister,  a  friend  of  a 
score  of  years,  and  enjoying  with  us  and  his  accom- 
plished wife  this  novel  and  delightful  life  ?  As  I 
sit  at  the  balcony,  somewhat  barred,  as  in  all  these 
houses,  I  see  protruding  from  his  window  the  Gen- 
eral's huge  meerschaum.  Its  smoke,  mingling  with 
that  of  my  chibouque,  flies  out  upon  the  blue  waves, 
to  mingle  with  that  of  the  steamers,  which  are  ply- 
ing up  and  down  and  reminding  the  Turk  that 
there  is  a  peculiar  civilization  not  altogether  born 
of  his  eastern  clime. 

We  are  twelve  miles  from  Constantinople.     The 


2  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

heats  and  noises  of  the  city  affect  us  not.  A  fresh 
wind  blows  briskly  through  the  opening,  a  mile 
above,  where  the  Euxine  begins  its  swift  current 
through  the  Bosphorus  to  the  Sea  of  Marmora 
(Propontis),  the  Dardanelles,  and  the  Mediter- 
ranean. This  current  dashes  across  the  bay,  and 
its  reflux,  after  it  strikes  our  stony  quay,  makes 
perpetual  seething  and  murmurous  motion,  to 
which  the  sough  of  the  wind  amid  the  trees  and 
terraced  walls  adds  its  high  notes.  It  is  difficult  to 
describe  the  peculiar  effect  of  the  sound  of  these 
waters  as  they  rush  in  and  play  back.  They  re- 
mind one  of  the  "  Rip-Raps  "  on  a  moderate  scale, 
in  their  irregular  unrest,  except  that  there  is  a 
sound  not  unlike  that  of  a  cataract  or  fountain  in 
deep  woods,  begetting  a  drowsy  hum,  like  that  of 
multitudes  of  bees.  We  have  no  word  to  describe 
it  exactly.  The  French  have  clapotage — a  sort  of 
melodious  choppiness.  Here,  after  wandering  in 
harsh  northern  climes,  and  amid  rougher  scenes, 
we  find  repose,  health,  and  transport. 

Our  home  is  situated  at  Therapia.  Its  very 
name  has  a  medicinal  origin,  starting,  however,  like 
all  the  delights  of  the  materia  medica,  with  poison. 
Medea,  daughter  of  the  King  of  Colchis,  where  the 
sheep  were  folded  which  bore  the  Golden  Fleece, 
fell  in  love  with  Jason,  who  took  more  interest  in 
the  fleece  than  his  right  of  hospitality  required. 
She  was  quite  familiar  with  things  a  lady  ought 
not  to  know,  such  as  charms  other  than  her  own. 
Her  magie  was  not  that  which  is  generally  con- 
ceded to  the  sex.  She  used  it  to  obfuscate  the 
dragon  that  guarded  the  Golden  Fleece.  She  thus 
became  particeps  criminis  with  Jason  in  the  larceny, 
and  fled  with  him  across  the  Euxine,  coming  into 


THE    UPPER  BOSPHORUS.  3 

this  beautiful  bay,  and  making,  in  part,  the  same 
journey  which  we  ourselves  enjoyed,  the  other 
day,  in  another  kind  of  craft.  Here  Medea  opened 
her  magic  box,  looked  over  her  drugs,  and  threw 
the  perilous  stuff  ashore.  The  Greeks,  for  euphony 
(as  we  used  to  say  in  college),  changed  Pharmakia 
into  Therapia,  which  the  cooling  airs  and  lofty  hills 
attest  to  be  a  "  proper  name  "  for  health  and  com- 
fort. The  village  signifies  a  "  cure."  The  primates 
of  the  Greek  nation  came  here  in  early  days  to 
dwell,  and  all  the  ambassadors  have  hereabout  their 
summer  homes.  Here  my  wife,  following  the  Me- 
dean  example,  threw  away  her  drugs,  and  received 
healing  from  the  hills,  winds,  and  waters.  The 
myth,  therefore,  hath  much  meaning  and  comfort 
for  us. 

We  never  felt  so  much  the  kindness  of  old  and 
new  friends  of  our  own  people  as  now.  There  was 
no  reason  why  we  should  have  been  so  kindly  re- 
ceived by  our  minister  and  consul.  We  were  not 
of  their  party,  but  when  one  is  abroad  how  minute 
party  lines  look.  We  were  strangers  to  the  consul, 
although  his  fame  as  a  patriot  in  the  war,  and  his 
'long  service  as  consul  at  Tunis,  had  made  for  him 
a  notable  record ;  but  the  sad  experience  which 
Americans  are  undergoing  at  home  and  abroad,  as 
the  consequence  of  the  crime  of  a  miscreant,  drew 
us  together  for  mutual  sympathy.  And  is  not  this 
the  very  beatitude  of  neighborliness,  without  rea- 
son, or  custom,  or  price  ?  It  springs  forth  like  the 
very  healing  breath  of  home  to  give  consolation. 
No  amount  of  reluctance  on  our  part  could  over- 
come the  gentle  urgency  of  our  diplomatic  friends 
and  whole-hearted  hosts.  Nolens  volens,  we  are  at 
home  and  in  measureless  content.  Not  Lonsf 


4  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

Branch,  Old  Point  Comfort,  Newport,  or  Mount 
Desert  can  compare  with  this,  our  summer  resort. 
The  dog  days  do  not  affect  it,  and  the  dust  and 
moil  of  active  life  are  only  a  memory.  The  mon- 
grel civilization  which  makes  the  city  below  seem 
coarse,  even  in  the  variety  and  colors  of  its  phases, 
'  does  not  intrude  here.  No  dervish  whirls  or  howls, 
and  no  narrow  streets  contract  our  vision. 

The  Turks  have  a  name  for  this  delightful, 
dreamy  existence.  They  call  it  "  Kef"  The  word 
is  produced,  as  an  egg  is,  by  warmth  ;  for  it  could 
not  be  understood  in  Trondhjem  or  Stockholm.  It 
conveys  the  idea  of  quiet,  ease,  coolness,  and  com- 
plete repose,  physical  and  spiritual.  The  senses 
are  just  alive  enough  to  enjoy  the  warm  breath, 
mitigated  by  the  cool  zephyr  and  grateful  shade, 
lulled  in  sensuous  activity,  only  not  apathy,  by  the 
sound  of  remote  music  or  the  lapse  of  refreshing 
waters.  The  Turk  will  have  his  "  Kef"  after  his 
bath  and  with  his  pipe.  He  will  have  it  a  half  day 
at  a  time.  He  will  have  it  with  the  aid  of  fount- 
ains ;  or,  if  not  that,  with  the  bubble,  bubble  of 
the  water  in  his  narghile,  as  the  cooled  smoke 
rises  through  the  long  tube  to  his  longing  lips, 
which  dreamily  cleave  to  the  polished  amber. 
Given  a  chibouque,  a  blue  sky,  the  musical  waters 
of  the  Bosphorus,  far  from  the  noise  of  the  going 
and  coming  of  people,  and  a  host  like  our  consul, 
and  a  companion  like  our  minister,  and  your  entire 
family  within  ear-shot,  and  you  have  the  "  Kef"  we 
keep  in  this  Ramadan  time  upon  the  upper  shores 
of  the  Bosphorus.  The  murmur  of  the  waters  not 
only  makes  music,  but  prismatic  music — the  spec- 
trum and  the  gamut.  The  waters  are  as  crystal- 
line as  brooks  in  July,  "  when  we  see  each  grain  of 


THE    UPPER  BOSPHORUS.  5 

gravel."  They  are  deep  enough  for  any  craft,  and 
so  are  called  fathomless.  It  is  only  their  beauty 
which  is  unfathomable.  A  hundred  feet  from  the 
gateway  of  our  house  are  these  plashing  waters, 
whose  silver  waves  make  prism  and  music  in  the 
morning  light.  On  our  right,  to  the  north,  sweep 
the  green  hills  along  the  margin  of  the  bay,  at 
whose  base  are  the  summer  palaces  and  beauteous 
gardens  of  the  European  legations  and  the  opulent 
pashas.  Here,  too,  is  a  village,  which  is  itself  a 
picturesque  locality.  These  hills  become  less  or- 
nate as  they  approach  the  Euxine ;  and  on  the  op- 
posite shore,  in  Asia,  where  there  is  less  moisture 
from  the  sea,  the  hills  are  denuded  of  trees  and 
somewhat  of  grass.  Peeping  above  them  on  either 
continent,  you  may  perceive  the  white  lighthouses 
and  the  towers  of  the  castles  where  the  Turk  com- 
mands the  entrance  and  exit. 

This  enchantment  may  not  last  long ;  for  the 
steamers,  with  their  black  Cardiff  coal-smoke,  fling 
their  dusky  pennons  against  the  blue  sky.  All 
about  the  bay  and  river  ply,  like  fairy  boats,  the 
long,  yellow  caiques,  rowed  by  oarsmen  in  red  caps 
and  white  clothes.  These  boats  seem,  in  the  clear 
light  and  water,  to  be  rather  in  the  air  than  on  the 
denser  element.  Their  plash,  as  they  clip  the 
waves,  is  more  musical  than  the  songs  the  boatmen 
sing  as  they  row.  These  songs  remind  us  of  the 
south  of  Spain  and  north  of  Africa.  They  linger 
in  our  memory,  and  have  more  sadness  in  their 
tones  than  melody.  When  once  heard,  they  are 
never  forgotten.  They  grate  upon  the  ear  and 
disturb  the  harmony  of  the  "  Kef."  These  ori- 
ental singers,  whether  Ottoman  or  Greek,  Arme- 
nian or  Arab,  should  cultivate  the  Goddess  of  Si- 


6  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

lence,  who  presides  over  Painting  and  Sculpture. 
They  should  not  vocalize.  The  chant  is  fearfully 
vague  and  monotonous.  The  tune  is  a  drawl,  as 
unmusical  as  the  muezzin.  The  key  is  sure  to  be 
wrong,  and  the  tones  nasal.  It  climbs  by  ragged, 
cragged  spasms  to  the  top  of  the  chromatic  scale, 
and,  yelling  discordantly  there  till  exhausted,  it 
drops  into  a  melancholy  and  abysmal  whine,  out  of 
which  there  is  no  resurrection.  Happily  the  upper 
Bosphorus  is  rarely  treated  to  these  outdoor  per- 
formances. 

These  caiques  are  sometimes  as  regal  and  gor- 
geous as  our  fancy  desires.  They  are  furnished 
with  rich  rugs,  and  upon  their  damask  cushions 
sometimes  sit  the  mystic  goddesses  of  the  harem, 
enveloped  in  many  folds  of  colored  silk  or  white 
muslin.  It  may  not  be  out  of  place  to  say  that  we 
have  been  presented  to  two  of  these  goddesses. 
Prudence  forbids  us  to  mention  their  names.  As 
the  consul  and  myself  were  walking  on  the  quay, 
he  was  saluted  by  them  from  their  boat.  Hasten- 
ing to  his  door,  he  found  them  making  a  call. 
They  were  the  widow  and  a  sister  of  a  pasha,  high 
in  honor.  They  were  appareled  like  Una,  in  celes- 
tial white,  but  through  their  yashmak  of  immacu- 
late mull  their  features  were  easily  seen.  My  wife 
was  presented  by  Mrs.  Heap,  and  found  that  they 
talked  French  with  the  best  accent  and  elegant 
grace.  Mr.  Heap  dared  to  enter  the  presence. 
This  was  too  much  for  me.  I  asked  audience  also, 
and,  by  the  beard  of  the  prophet !  was  admitted. 
We  all  took  tea  together.  They  could  not  drink 
very  well  without  dropping  their  veils.  With 
curious  look  I  gazed  upon  these  Circassian  faces, 
with  their  dreamy,  beautiful  eyes  and  pure  ala- 


THE    UPPER  BOSPHORUS.  7 

baster  skin  ;  in  fact,  I  shook  their  lily-white  hands 
at  parting,  and  furbished  up  a  French  phrase  or  so 
as  sweet  as  "  syrups  tinct  with  cinnamon,"  and 
then  the  vision  vanished  in  the  barge  of  beauty, 
and  our  "Kef"  was  renewed  with  double  Orient- 
alism. 

We  observed  in  the  evening  paper  a  notice  from 
the  police  (not  of  this  transaction,  although  it  had 
to  be  sub  rosa)  that  an  order  had  been  issued  "  to 
employ  thick  veils,"  and  not  the  transparent  sub- 
terfuges which  these  goddesses  now  use. 

As  these  divinities  depart,  we  seek  the  balcony 
to  gaze  at  the  shoreless  Euxine  through  the  gate- 
way by  which  we  entered  into  this  enchanted  place. 
There  is  no  horizon  but  that  of  sea  and  sky.  As 
we  look,  the  offing  displays  ships  in  full  wing,  glit- 
tering in  the  golden  light  of  the  evening.  It  is 
impossible  to  look  toward  this  illimitable  margin, 
without  a  sense  of  awe,  which  takes  us  out  of  our 
human  experience  into  the  mysteries  of  the  Un- 
seen. Are  these  ships  phantoms  of  a  land  of 
myths — dreams  of  poets  of  the  golden  age  ? 

There  are  many  golden  associations  here.  Time 
has  not  tarnished  them.  Not  that  golden  eggs  are 
laid  by  the  geese  we  see  driven  by  Turks  along  the 
quay  ;  nor  are  the  golden  pippins  of  Hesperus  sold 
along  with  the  golden  Choussa  grapes;  nor  are  the 
ca'iques  of  the  Golden  Horn  as  sumptuous  as  the 
golden  barge  of  Cleopatra  ;  but  there  are  memories 
of  the  Colchian  sheep  with  the  golden  fleece,  which 
reminded  Hood  of  the  golden  age  of  farming, 
under  a  golden  sun  in  the  golden  East ! 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE   UPPER   BOSPHORUS— SCENES   AND   ASSOCIATIONS. 

'Tts  time,  alas — the  mysteries  and  the  lore 

I  came  to  study  on  this  wondrous  shore 

Are  all  forgotten  in  the  new  delights. 

The  strange  wjldjoy,  that  fill  my  days  and  nights . 

— MOORE'S  EPICUREAN. 


•  :ji 


r  I  ^HERE  is  a  road  and  a  path  below  our  win- 
dow. The  sights  upon  them,  are  peculiar  to 
the  Bosphorus,  and  serve  not  a  little  to  break  the 
beauty  of  the  scene  and  to  disenchant  us  of  our 
odalisque  vision.  Three  hags,  of  dirty  attire,  are 
sitting  shoeless  in  the  dust  and  muttering  their 
plaints  to  each  passer-by.  Failing  to  get  alms, 
they  take  a  bite  all  round  of  bread  and  cucum- 
ber, varied  with  raw  tomato,  and  then  a  sleep. 
They  are  aroused  in  a  flutter  of  spite  by  a  flock 
of  a  hundred  geese,  driven  by  three  traders,  who 
thus  traffic  along  the  bank.  They  are  hardly 
settled  in  their  former  attitude,  before  a  Turk, 
astride  of  a  donkey,  with  enormous  panniers,  like 
wings,  sweeps  them  out  of  the  path  ;  while  the 
next  moment  the  boatmen  who  are  pulling  around 
the  curve,  and  against  the  current,  a  lighter,  full  of 
goods  and  fruits,  disturb  them  again.  Full  tilt 
down  the  dusty  road  we  perceive  a  small  boy  of  a 
Mussulman,  with  a  huge  club,  driving  homeward 
two  untractable  animals  of  the  same  meek  family 

8 


THE    UPPER  BOSPHORUS.  g 

of  misery.  Cries  of  fruit  and  vegetables  arise  upon 
the  air,  as  their  venders  drag  the  provision  boats 
along  the  wharf.  In  front  of  the  different  lega- 
tions (ours  excepted),  a  mile  off,  on  the  shore,  are 
steamers,  called  stationnaires,  which  are  used  by  the 
embassies.  In  them  these  ministers  sweep  down 
to  the  great  city  in  pomp  and  circumstance  ;  while 
near  each  are  little  tugs,  which  fly  around  as  ten- 
ders to  the  bigger  craft.  Immediately  across  the 
bay  there  is  a  mountain,  from  which  Jason  looked 
upon  the  Euxine,  before  he  ventured  forth  after 
that  fabled  fleece  of  gold.  His  name,  in  the  Greek 
of  his  time,  and  thoroughly  approved  by  the  schol- 
ars here  as  authentic,  is  carved  upon  a  pillar  upon 
its  heights. 

This  is  not  the  only  historic  or  traditional  as- 
sociation with  this  central  spot  of  our  earth.  Along 
these  banks,  and  over  these  hills,  and  upon  this 
stream  what  struggles  have  taken  place  between 
races  and  religions,  fighting  for  this  ground  of 
vantage  and  seat  of  empire  !  Persian,  Scythian, 
Goth,  Greek,  Latin,  Genoese,  Venetian,  Turk, 
Russian,  English,  French,  and  Italian,  with  fleets 
and  armies,  striving  by  force  to  subdue  and  hold 
these  places  of  power,  and  to  settle  not  merely  the 
position  and  condition  of  our  races,  almost  from 
their  genesis,  and  certainly  in  their  exodus,  but  de- 
termining the  relations  of  distant  empires  and  col- 
onies here  at  this  one  pivot  of  human  movement. 
To-day  the  same  uncertainty  remains  as  to  what 
people  shall  hold  this  key  to  empire.  The  old 
problem  returns  :  "  Shall  the  Ottoman  still  hold  his 
own,  or  is  it  his  own  ?  Whose  is  it  ?  Or  whose 
shall  it  be?" 

The  day  after  we  arrived  at  this  our  temporary 


10  FROM  POLE   TO  PYRAMID. 

home,  I  made,  with  the  minister,  the  circuit  of  this 
end  of  the  Bosphorus.  General  Wallace  ordered 
out  the  legation  cai'que.  It  is  some  thirty  feet  long. 
Three  Turks,  in  their  clean,  white  attire,  from  the 
stockings  (for  they  were  shoeless)  up  to  their  bare 
necks,  pulled  their  six  oars  ;  while  the  stout  and 
grave  old  "  cavass  "  of  the  legation,  Mehmet,  with 
sword  by  his  side  and  pistol  in  belt,  took  the  helm, 
cross-legged  and  serene.  The  General  and  myself 
sat  on  soft  cushions  and  smoked,  like  true  be- 
lievers, the  "  most  virtuous  of  weeds." 

Therapia  is  called,  as  I  have  said,  "  the  place  of 
healing,"  and,  while,  it  is  deserving  that  name,  it 
might  also  be  called  the  place  for  fighting.  We 
did  not  take  our  cavass  along  for  fear  of  a  fight. 
The  Turks  are  very  peaceful  now.  The  cavass  is, 
however,  always  prepared.  He  is  the  successor  of 
the  chaousc/i,  or  janizary.  When  Constantinople 
was  made  almost  untenable  for  strangers  and 

fj 

Christians,  by  reason  of  this  famous  band,  the 
custom  arose  of  employing  them  at  the  legations 
for  safety  ;  and,  when  the  janizaries  were  eradi- 
cated by  Mahmoud  II.,  the  custom  remained,  the 
name  only  being  changed.  Mehmet  has  been  the 
servitor  of  the  United  States  for  twenty  years  in  this 
fighting  relation.  He  goes  with  the  minister  and 
his  family  on  every  occasion.  When  Mr.  Maynard 
was  minister  here,  not  long  since,  he  made  a  trip 
into  Thessaly,Hand,  in  some  abstract  condition  of 
mind,  wandered  off  up  a  mountain,  twelve  miles 
from  the  ship,  in  a  very  brigandish  vicinage.  He 
was  missing  for  hours,  and  great  solicitude  was  felt. 
Mehmet  was  nearly  crazed.  He  wrung  his  hands 
and  cried  :  "  Oh  !  has  it  come  to  this,  that  I  (Meh- 
met) should  lose  my  minister?  Allah!  O  Allah! 


UPPER  BOSPHORUS— SCENES  AND  ASSOCIATIONS.    XI 

send  him  to  me,  and  never  more  shall  he  go  from 
my  sight."  Mr.  Maynard  appeared,  and  Mehmet 
was  relieved. 

What  I  meant  to  say  was  that  these  were  bel- 
ligerent waters.  They  form  a  splendid  harbor, 
deep  and  broad  enough  for  any  vessel  or  conflict. 
Here  was  the  theatre  of  sea-fights  long  before  those 
between  Venetian  and  Genoese.  We  skirt  the 
shores  of  this  bay,  and  cross  in  the  teeth  of  the 
strong  current  and  breeze  which  comes  from  the 
direction  of  the  Crimea.  We  row  over  the  waters 
which  flash  against  the  outer  walls  of  a  sultan's 
palace,  and  remark  that  every  place  has  its  soldiers 
on  guard. 

What  exquisite  palace  of  white  marble  is  that  on 
the  Asiatic  side,  embosomed  in  trees  and  guarded 
as  if  it  were  a  prison  ?  That  is  also  one  of  the 
Sultan's  elegant  homes.  It  is  just  now  holding  in 
gentlest  durance  the  Sheik  of  the  Kurds,  who  was 
found  in  rebellion  against  his  sultanic  majesty. 
Strange,  is  it  not,  that  these  Kurds  are  the  very 
tribe  from  which  Xenophon,  in  his  retreat,  received 
the  hardest  fighting  ?  After  several  thousand 
years,  its  chief  looks  out,  a  prisoner  in  his  "  re- 
treat," upon  the  thirty  odd  steamers  which  make 
the  round  of  the  Bosphorus  every  day. 

Along  these  shores  were  once  temples  to  Jupi- 
ter, Neptune,  and  Diana,  and  nine  other  divinities, 
who  were  appeased  by  the  Greeks  before  they  ven- 
tured over  the  .^Egean  and  Euxine.  The  evidence 
of  these  shrines  of  piety  has  been  found  in  Greek 
inscriptions  of  the  period.  In  later  days  of  the 
Greek  Christian  domination,  these  hills  and  the 
mountains  behind  them  were  covered  with  churches 
and  monasteries  ;  but  the  main  attraction  is  the 


I2  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

classic  Greek  remnants,  which  find  verification  in 
a  thousand  ways.  The  mosques,  which  superseded 
the  churches,  are  of  less  interest,  as,  generally,  the 
classic  and  Christian  decorations  are  whitewashed 
or  despoiled.  From  the  promontory  at  the  mouth 
of  the  sea  to  the  Tower  of  Medea,  which  is  now  a 
lighthouse,  and  from  Giant's  Mountain  to  the  fiovs 
nopos  (the  passage  of  the  ox),  from  which  comes 
the  name  of  the  straits,  there  is  no  more  beautiful 
spot,  according  to  natural  attraction,  than  the  old 
castle  which  the  Turks  made,  to  subdue  the  last  of 
the  Greek  Empire. 

At  every  turn  General  Wallace  repeats  his  ob- 
servation, as  if  it  had  not  already  made  an  indeli- 
ble impression  :  "  I  tell  you,  sir,  that  this  is  only  a 
Turkish  encampment,  head-quarters  down  at  Con- 
stantinople. Soldiers  everywhere.  Why,  our  in- 
terpreter was  in  America  the  other  day.  He  came 
back,  and  said  he  hadn't  seen  a  soldier  while  there 
— four  months.  Didn't  see  a  uniform ;  but  here 
one  sees  hardly  anything  else." 

Varying  our  talk  with  incidents  of  "  Billy  the 
Kid,"  just  shot  by  the  sheriff  in  New  Mexico,  and 
making  our  connection  between  the  Orient  which 
we  observe  and  the  Orient  (through  the  Spanish- 
Moorish-Mexican  race,  which  the  General  has  gov- 
erned so  recently)  which  we  have  in  America, 
making  the  sheriff  and  the  sheik,  the  alcalde  of 
California  and  the  caliph  of  Bagdad  fraternal  in 
philology,  we  take  a  sharp  turn  around  a  point, 
into  and  within  the  "  Sweet  Waters  of  Asia,"  un- 
der the  promontory  of  Lembos.  There  the  eupho- 
nious Geuk-Soo  makes  its  little  stream  reflect  the 
Castle  of  Asia,  built  in  1393,  by  Sultan  Bajazit, 
surnamed  Thunder.  It  was  built  for  the  subju- 


UPPER  BOSPHORUS— SCENES  AND  ASSOCIATIONS.    ^ 

gation  of  Constantinople,  and  played  its  part  in  the 
action.  Glancing  up  at  its  old  walls  and  towers, 
here  and  there  decked  with  vegetation,  we  espy 
two  storks,  looking  proudly  down  upon  us.  The 
General's  fingers  itched  for  his  gun.  There  was 
blood  in  his  eye. 

The  picture  was  quite  enchanting,  as  the  even-1 
ing  was  settling  down  upon  the  scene.  When  we 
passed  up  the  "  Sweet  Waters  "  we  observe  lazy 
Turks  fishing  and  eating ;  notice  upon  the  shores 
a  few  eunuchs  watching  the  odalisques,  who  are 
out  upon  the  banks  for  a  stroll,  enveloped  in  their 
yashmak,  which  faintly  conceals  their  features  and 
their  form. 

Having  surveyed  these  waters,  we  turn  our  boat 
out  upon  the  Bosphorus  and  steer  for  the  Euro- 
pean side,  keeping  in  view  the  large  round  towers 
of  the  Castle  of  Europe.  They  rise  in  superb 
grandeur  above  their  battlements,  and  out  of  the 
surrounding  wood  and  houses. 

We  pass  over  the  very  spot  spanned  many  hun- 
dred years  before  the  Saviour  by  the  bridge  of 
boats  on  which  Darius,  king  of  kings,  with  his 
700,000  men,  crossed  for  the  conquest  of  the  Scy- 
thians. But  Darius  is  not  the  main  attraction 
here  ;  nor  is  it  the  fact  that  here  the  Bosphorus  is 
swift  and  narrow  ;  but  above  us  is  the  most  ex- 
quisite mediaeval  fortress  extant.  It  is  large,  with 
winding  walls  and  three  grand  round  towers,  and  is 
celebrated  as  well  for  its  strength  and  permanency 
as  for  its  history.  It  was  built  in  four  months, 
under  such  orders  as  only  a  Mahommedan  sultan 
could  give,  and  under  promises  of  honors  beyond  all 
the  dreams  of  wealth.  It  was  the  head  of  that 
anaconda  which  Mahommed  II.  made  to  swing 


A4  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

around  and  crush  what  was  left  of  the  Greek  Em- 
pire. 

Still  further  below  the  towers  of  Roumelia  (or 
Europe)  is  a  beautiful  kiosk,  built  for  some  sultan, 
upon  the  site  of  a  temple  of  the  chaste  Diana.  Many 
houses  are  under  the  shadow  of  the  towers,  and 
below  them  is  a  cemetery,  full  of  turbaned  tomb- 
stones, of  which  but  few  seem  to  be  cared  for. 

At  this  interesting  point  the  narrowness  of  the 
river  makes  the  "  Devil's  Current,"  and  we  summon 
some  genii  of  terrible  turbans  and  brown  aspect  to 
assist  our  boat  around  the  rapids.  The  excitement 
of  the  pull  is  not  great,  as  the  wind  is  not  aiding 
the  current.  Soon  we  pass  beneath  the  throne  of 
Darius,  in  the  college-grounds  on  high,  and  from 
which  his  army  was  watched  as  it  passed  over  to 
Europe.  The  present  here  combines  with  the  past, 
for  we  are  told  by  our  helmsman  : 

"  This  is  the  palace  of  Young  Turkey,  or  Reshid 
Pasha,  purchased  of  him  by  the  Sultan  Abdul 
Assiz,  for  his  daughter,  who  married  Reshid's  son." 

Cypress  groves  are  passed,  and  then  we  turn 
about  the  point  which  leads  us  into  the  Bay  of 
Stenia.  It  is  full  of  Grecian  associations  of  the 
earlier  day,  which  Constantine  transmuted  into 
Christian  romance  ;  for  here  the  "  winged  genius  " 
which  encouraged  the  Argonauts  was  transformed 
into  the  Archangel  Michael.  Palaces  were  here 
built  and  destroyed  ;  villages  have  come  and  gone ; 
maritime  contests  were  here  waged — Nature  hav- 
ing fitted  this  bay  as  one  of  the  grand  theatres  in 
this  grandest  of  historic  centres. 

A  few  more  dashes  of  the  oar,  and  our  tired 
men  wipe  the  sweat  from  their  brows,  receive  their 
stipend  from  Mehmet,  and  we  are  upon  our  own 


UPPER  BOSPHORUS— SCENES  AND  ASSOCIATIONS.    I5 

steps  at  our  landing.  There  is  no  star  or  stripe 
flying  over  it.  It  is  sad  in  our  household,  for  the 
President  is  dying.  The  English  embassy,  near 
by,  has  its  ensign  saucily  snapping  at  every  breeze. 
Our  own  home  is  not  as  gay  in  oriental  arabesque 
as  the  Persian  palace  which  we  have  passed ;  nor  does 
it  look  so  mysterious  as  the  silent  houses  and  pal- 
aces, guarded  by  soldiers,  along  the  route  where  the 
Turkish  millionaires  and  rulers  live ;  but  we  find  it 
most  attractive  in  its  hospitality  and  its  position. 

Before  the  sun  goes  down,  we  stroll  into  its  garden, 
and  survey  the  round  trip  we  have  taken.  Under 
a  mountain  ash  upon  our  terrace,  we  look  far  out 
through  the  open  door  of  the  Euxine.  The  water 
seems  more  restless  and  fretful,  almost  worried,  as 
it  rushes  down  to  find  its  barrier  against  the  piers 
at  our  feet.  Our  garden  is  not  without  its  ham- 
mock, out  of  which  you  may  see,  between  the 
urns  upon  our  balustrade,  the  active  scenes  and 
splendors  of  the  bay  and  stream.  Below  us,  on 
the  street,  carriages  and  equestrians  fly  by  ;  and 
ladies,  in  bundles  of  many  clothes,  awkwardly  shuf- 
fle, followed  by  black  and  white  servants.  One 
of  the  company's  boats  which  flies  the  red  flag  with 
star  and  crescent,  and  makes  its  voyage  from  Galata 
Bridge  to  this  point,  flashes  by,  laden  with  its 
motley  groups  of  passengers.  A  dozen  fishermen 
are  trying  their  luck  along  the  shore.  Every 
moment  a  ca'ique  comes  in  sight,  making  for  the 
village  of  embassies  across  the  bay,  which  is  sur- 
rounded, like  another  Como,  with  its  manifold 
villas.  For  a  moment  the  oriental  loveliness  is 
stained  by  the  smoke  of  the  steamer,  only  to 
brighten  into  golden  lustre  under  the  sinking  sun. 
There  is  a  gala  at  the  Austrian  legation.  Its 


t6  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

stationnaire  boat  is  decked  and  gay  with  flags.  It 
is  the  emperor's  birthday,  and  we  are  promised 
an  illumination  to-night.  The  little  yacht,  bearing 
its  Austrian  colors,  plies  about  in  eager  activity. 
These  evidences  of  modern  interests  and  people  do 
not  detract  from  the  dreamy  memories  of  the  elder 
world,  which  pursue  our  eye  and  entrance  our 
fancy,  as  we  glance  between  the  mystic  pillars  of 
that  gateway  to  the  north. 

In  the  midst  of  these  reveries  I  am  unroman- 
tically  called  to  tea.  But  does  one  need  the  "  cup 
that  cheers  "  in  such  a  scene  ?  I  am  oblivious  in 
the  intoxicating  draught  of  pure  air  which  is  ever 
laden  with  freshness,  the  more  enjoyable  because 
in  such  contrast  with  our  ruder  Scandinavian  and 
Russian  experiences. 

Preferring  a  higher  and  sweeter  taste  of  life  than 
tea  and  its  inspiring  talk,  I  wander  into  the  garden 
on  the  southern  side  of  our  home.  The  magnolias 
are  yet  in  bloom,  and  the  evening  air  is  freighted 
with  the  fragrance  of  the  flowers  in  parterres  and 
along  the  uprising  terraces.  Winding  up  amidst 
their  paths,  with  walls  of  ivy  and  plats  of  flowers, 
we  reach  the  uppermost  and  outermost  wall  of  this 
enchanting  garden. 

These  grounds  were  laid  out  by  a  Frenchman. 
They  are  called  after  his  name,  with  the  affix  of 
"  Folly."  If  they  be  as  foolish  as  they  were  ex- 
pensive, it  illustrates  the  biblical  phrase  as  to  those 
who  plant  vineyards  while  others  eat  the  fruit 
thereof.  Clambering  to  the  topmost  wall,  above 
the  vegetable  garden,  I  look  out  to  the  bare  hills 
behind  the  terraced  beauties,  and  then  far  off  to 
the  Asiatic  mountains  and  to  the  battlements  we 
have  closely  surveyed  in  our  boat.  The  ranges  of 


UPPER  BOSPHOR  US— SCENES  AND  A  SSOCIA  T10NS.     x  7 

yellow  and  white  palaces  under  the  European  hills 
across  the  bay  are  beginning  to  make  magical  their 
marble  magnificence  in  the  mirroring  water,  which 
is  calming  with  the  mildness  of  evening.  Fancy  is 
assuming  or  usurping  the  throne  of  reality.  The 
Bosphorus  becomes  a  telescope.  From  the  emi- 
nence its  valley  is  an  iridescent  tube,  ground  out 
by  fire  and  clarified  by  water.  With  the  license  of 
a  little  more  phantasy  and  a  large  map,  there  is 
larger  view.  Looking  through  the  haze  of  dis- 
tance, as  it  were  a  magnifying-glass  or  channel  of 
vision,  to  the  north-west,  there  is  seen  on  one  line, 
350  miles  across  the  Black  Sea,  Sebastopol,  with 
its  hills  of  battle  and  vales  of  culture.  Looking 
south,  we  should  see  at  the  same  distance  as  the 
Crimea,  the  snow  and  cloud  of  the  Asian  Olym- 
pus ;  while  at  double  the  distance  we  might  peep, 
pigmy-like,  between  the  huge  legs  of  the  Colossus 
at  Rhodes,  if  the  earthquake  and  the  usurer  had 
only  left  its  brassy  proportions  astride  the  harbor ; 
and  discern  still  further  on,  into  the  desert  of 
Africa,  on  the  borders  of  Egypt,  the  oasis  of 
Ammon,  gladdening  the  heart  of  the  chrono- 
logical Bedouin  with  dates  and  his  camels  with 
water. 

The  illumination  begins  at  the  embassies,  and 
the  stars  glisten  doubly  in  sky  and  river.  The 
scent  of  the  flowers  below  rises,  while  the  acacia, 
orange,  and  lemon  furnish  their  foliage,  fruit,  and 
fragrance  for  the  delightful  picture.  Around  our 
feet  are  rare  plants,  whose  names  are  unfamiliar  ; 
but  the  laurel,  althea,  verbena,  and  lavender  are 
old  friends.  Upon  the  hills  about,  as  thick  as  sol- 
diers, rise  the  Lombardy  poplars  and  funereal  cy- 
press, making  as  lovely  a  scene  as  ever  wave 


jg  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

washed,  leaf  beautified,  or  sun  glorified.  It  is  a 
scene  where 

"  The  winds  with  wonder  whist, 
Smoothly  the  waters  kist, 
Whispering  new  joys.'' 

No  wonder  the  current  of  one's  thoughts  flows 
with  the  ceaseless  tide  below,  unrestrained  by  no 
power  save  that  "  arbitrary  Queen  of  Sense,"  by 
which,  as  those  tranced,  we  are  held  in  thralldom. 

And  to  think  that,  amidst  all  these  lovely  scenes 
and  floral  delights,  this  splendid  seat  of  temporal 
and  religious  power  should  be  the  favorite  haunt 
of  luxury  and  putrescence.  Brothers  may  not  now 
kill  brothers  who  are  too  near  the  Ottoman  throne ; 
the  mysterious  Bosphorus  may  not  now  drown  the 
too-froward  odalisque ;  its  waters  may  not  now 
bring  to  the  haughty  Moslem  the  treasures  of  the 
Orient  and  the  beauties  of  Circassia,  or  bear  na- 
vies equal  to  those  of  powers  further  west,  by 
which  he  is  "guaranteed"  ;  or,  as  "  Eothen  "  has 
it  about  this  restless  river  of  divers  and  sinister 
memories,  "  it  may  not  watch  the  walls  of  the  Sul- 
tan's serail,  or  quiet  the  scandals  of  his  court,  or 
stifle  the  intrigue  of  his  ministers,  or  extinguish  his 
rivals,  or  hush  his  naughty  wives  one  by  one,"  or 
do  these  and  other  vast  wonders  of  the  Deep,  with- 
out the  world  knowing  it  somewhat.  But  still 
this  River  of  Revenge  and  its  depths  of  despair 
have,  within  the  few  years  since  I  saw  it  last,  had 
stormy  seasons,  guilty  eddies,  desperate  currents, 
noisy  and  noisome  scandals,  many  a  wreck  of 
minister  and  sultan,  and  many  a  crime  most  foul, 
to  turn  its  green  "  one  red."  Yet,  with  all  these 
changeful  chases,  its  current  is  still  as  clear  as  ever. 


UPPER  BOSPHORUS— SCENES  AND  ASSOCIATIONS.    I9 

and  it  still  trends  toward  the  Propontis  and  the 
world  without  and  beyond.  • 

On  our  way  to  our  legation  to-day,  were  we  not 
shown  the  palace  where  -the  last  Sultan,  Abdul 
Assiz,  was  said  to  be  strangled,  and  the  hole  in  the 
wall  through  which  his  body  was  borne  for  the  ex- 
amination ?  If  this  sultanic  power  be  on  the  wane 
and  no  longer  "crescent";  if  its  splendors  are 
fading  like  evening  out  of  the  European  sky  ;  if 
many  of  the  thousand  crimes  which  link  the  Bos- 
phorus  with  the  execrations  of  mankind  are  as 
hideous  as  ever,  they  are  certainly  not  as  common 
or  as  impunitive  now  as  when  the  "  Magnificent " 
Suleimans  ruled  by  a  rod  or  a  scimitar,  a  sack  or 
a  bow-string,  and  gave  "  fiat "  from  the  furthest 
India  to  the  gates  of  Hercules. 

Yet  I  am  painfully  reminded  by  excesses  in  our 
beloved  land,  where  a  President  lies  hovering  be- 
twixt two  eternities,  that  it  is  not  for  us  to  reproach 
others  of  scandals  and  assassinations.  As  the  cur- 
tain of  night  is  drawn  over  these  scenes  of  outward 
loveliness — if,  indeed,  that  be  a  curtain  which  is 
only  a  folded  wimple,  like  that  over  the  features  of 
the  Nourmahal — the  stars  come  forth,  not  singly, 
but  in  multitudes,  appareled  in  celestial  light.  The 
Orient  hath,  indeed,  its  compensations  for  excesses. 
My  mind  darts  back  to  the  Arctic  Circle  and  its 
nightlessness.  The  stellar  glories  of  these  skies,  like 
pearls  at  random  flung,  come  to  me  in  meditations 
that  trail  in  mysterious  awe  after  the  constellations 
through  this  deep  oriental  heaven.  A  sweeter 
sonnet  was  never  sung  than  that  of  Blanco  White, 
wherein  he  describes  Hesperus  leading  the  hosts  of 
heaven  in  the  rays  of  the  great  setting  flame,  whose 
glorious  canony  of  li^ht  and  blue  make  us  blip-1  ^ 


2o  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

such  countless  orbs.  His  questioning  is  the  phi- 
losophy of  mystery — as  he  inquires  why  we  should 
shun  Death  with  anxious  strife  ;  for  if  Light  can 
thus  deceive,  wherefore  not  Life  ?  Is  it  not  true 
that  the  stellar  boss  of  Night  contributes  best  to 
spiritual  insight  and  foresight  ?  I  picture  the  con- 
sternation of  those  bold  Vikings,  for  whom  the  sea 
had  no  terrors,  when  first  they  saw  this  heaven  of 
night  enveloped  with  stars  ;  for  those  bold  Norse- 
men, from  whose  ancient  homes  we  are  newly  come, 
did  not  omit  far-off  Stamboul  in  their  adventures. 
Nor  did  I  wonder  that  men  even  from  the  land  of 
Boreas,  with  its  setless  sun,  here  worshiped  the  in- 
finite and  uncreate  God,  the  author  of  this  heaven 
and  its  myriad  hosts,  and  with  pious  earnestness 
bore  its  knowledge  to  the  rocks  and  snows  of 
Northland ;  for  out  of  the  heart  of  this  Orient, 
as  out  of  the  eastern  sky,  and  before  the  dawn  of 
our  physical  advancement  and  science,  the  star  of 
Bethlehem  flamed  in  these  nocturnal  heavens, 
lighting  the  seers  of  other  lands,  besides  those  of 
the  North,  to  the  spot  where  lay  the  Babe  of  Beth- 
lehem. 

Thus  musing  I  recalled  the  "  tale  of  the  Christ," 
which  our  gifted  and  gallant  host  has  told  in  his 
"Ben  Hur."  It  is  a  story  of  divine  love.  As  I 
recalled  it,  the  weird  scenes  of  the  desert  of  Judea 
came  upon  me  with  an  all  hail !  hereafter.  We  bid 
them,  though  at  distance,  hail,  as  Hope  lightens 
our  heart  and  waves  her  golden  hair.  Thither  we 
as  pilgrims  are  tending. 

There,  under  the  infinite  stillness  of  the  eastern 
sky,  the  wise  men  of  the  East  met  to  compare  their 
inward  experiences  and  enjoy  their  mutual  ecsta- 
sies. Through  their  inner  light  of  faith,  and  by  the 


UPPER  BOSPHOR US— SCENES  AND  ASSOCIATIONS.     2i 

lambent  flame  which  became  a  stellar  focus  of 
celestial  promise  they  followed,  star-led,  till  they 
found  "  the  Christ." 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE  TOWERS  OF  EUROPE  AND  THE  AMERICAN  COLLEGE. 

Revolution  may  change  the  face  of  nature  and  sweep  nations 
from  the  earth  ;  custom  and  habit  and  exterior  circumstances  may 
change  and  pass  away,  but  the  inner  life  of  man,  with  all  its  joy 
and  hope  and  love  and  sorrow  and  care,  remains  the  same  in  every 
nation  and  in  every  age — intensively  active  and  grand  and  inter- 
esting.— BULWER. 

WE  have  been  three  weeks  and  more  in  Con- 
stantinople. The  time  goes  by  as  in  a 
dream.  Although  the  weather  is  hot,  we  have  found 
comfort,  both  at  Therapia  and  at  the  hotel  in  the 
city,  which  overlooks  and  is  cooled  by  the  Bospho- 
rus  and  Golden  Horn.  The  city  is  also  a  summer 
resort,  with  all  the  attraction  of  water  and  mountain 
aspect.  Besides,  it  has  the  movement  of  cjouds, 
smoke,  steamers,  boats  and  sails,  and  the  unresisting 
flow  of  the  stream,  which  here  begins  to  contemplate 
a  rush  toward  the  Dardanelles  through  Marmora. 
To  these  is  added  in  plain  view,  under  the  moon, 
now  full,  or  under  the  brightest  of  sunlight,  the 
domes  and  minarets  which  give  to  Constantinople 
its  individuality  among  cities.  The  sounds  which 
rise  about  us  are  those  of  the  bells,  for  an  active 
Catholic  church  is  near,  and  there  is  much  devotion 
within  its  walls ;  then  the  cries  of  venders,  which 
after  daybreak  are  incessant,  or  the  clamor  of  the 
dogs  baying  at  the  moon  or  at  a  strange  dog,  or  a 
canine  chorus  in  full  agony ;  or  the  metallic  ring 

22 


TOWERS  OF  EUROPE  AND  THE  AMERICAN  COLLEGE     23 

by  night  of  the  watchman's  staff  upon  the  stone 
pavements,  or  his  startling  alarm  of  fire,  as  he  wends 
his  way  amidst  the  narrow  lanes  down  the  declivity 
to  the  shopping  centres.  Nor  ought  it  to  be  for- 
gotten, as  one  of  the  sounds  now  familiar,  that  we 
have  each  hour  a  salvo  of  bugle-music  or  of  artillery 
from  the  forts  on  both  sides  of  the  Bosphorus,  which 
indicates  more  than  anything  else  that  these  seven 
hills  of  Byzantium  are  an  encampment,  realizing 
the  Byronic  lines  that 

"  The  city  won  for  Allah  from  the  Giaour, 
The  Giaour  from  Othman's  race  again  may  wrest.'* 

Indeed,  it  is  asserted  and  known  that  the  Turks 
have  always  kept  their  archives  packed  in  knapsacks, 
ready  for  a  movement  into  Asia,  believing  that  what 
the  Koran  records  will  take  place,  and  that  the 
Moslem  "must  go"  to  Asia,  whence  he  came. 

The  most  attractive  spot  on  the  Bosphorus,  as 
well  as  the  narrowest,  is  the  three-towered  "fortress 
of  Europe."  It  is  called  Romolo-Hissar.  It  eter- 
nizes the  fate  and  fall  of  the  city.  It  is  a  perpetual 
object  of  admiration  to  the  stranger,  as  he  goes  up 
and  down  the  river.  It  is  situated  midway  between 
the  city  and  the  legation  at  Therapia.  One  of  the 
attractions  near  the  spot  is  the  American  College, 
founded  by  Mr.  Robert,  of  New  York.  Around 
this  fortress  and  college  live  the  professors.  Among 
them  is  Professor  Grosvenor,  who  for  thirteen  years 
has  been  teaching  Greek,  and  has  a  responsible  po- 
sition in  the  direction  of  the  College.  I  will  not 
say  that  we  are  friends,  because  he  happened  to  be 
of  "my  party."  He  is  a  clergyman,  of  the  Congre- 
gational Church  ;  but,  be  he  what  he  may,  it  was 
my  good  fortune  to  meet  him  here  for  the  first  time 


24  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID, 

in  this  Eastern  World,  though  he  declares  that  he 
has  represented  me  in  the  world  of  dreams.  This 
is  the  story  he  tells  :  He  was  in  Faneuil  Hall,  in 
1872,  when  Horace  Greeley  was  running  for  Presi- 
dent, and  on  the  stand  and  about  to  speak,  when 
the  presiding  officer  demanded  his  name.  He  ut- 
terly forgot  his  own  and  gave  mine,  and  was  in- 
troduced with  thundering  applause.  He  proceeded 
to  make  a  speech  on  the  line  of  amnesty  and 
brotherhood  ;  and,  when  through,  was  received  with 
congratulations  so  pronounced  that  he  awoke. 
This  was  a  strange  psychological  fact,  related  far 
off  here  by  a  gentleman  of  probity,  who  became 
thoroughly  identified  with  another  person,  losing 
his  own  identity.  Inasmuch  as  he  had  personated 
me  so  much  better  than  I  could  myself,  and  had 
come  to  have  a  sort  of  property  in  me,  we  yielded 
to  his  invitation,  and  resolved  to  visit  his  home  at 
the  towers  near  the  College. 

Our  boat-ride  was  as  lovely  as  usual,  and  in  an 
hour  we  were  at  our  haven.  Professor  G.  and  his 
little  son  were  there  to  receive  us.  My  wife  was 
soon  seated  in  a  palanquin,  which  two  hamals  took 
in  charge — one  before  and  one  behind. 

"Thus  mounted,  escorted  by  the  gentlemen," 
says  her  journal,  "  we  climbed  the  hill  and  reached 
the  house.  The  ropes  over  the  shoulders  of  the 
porters  held  the  two  ends  of  the  poles  in  loops  to 
either  hand,  and  made  the  chair  quite  an  easy 
method  of  riding,  besides  reminding  me  of  my 
ascent  up  Mount  Vesuvius.  Poor  fellows  !  They 
patiently  plodded  upward,  and  when  they  de- 
posited their  burden  (only  125  pounds)  on  the  hos- 
pitable doorstep,  the  perspiration  was  pouring 
from  them.  I  was  not  allowed  to  pay  an  extra 


TOWERS  OF  EUROPE  AND  THE  AMERICAN  COLLEGE.     25 

piastre,  as  'they  might  be  spoiled  for  other  occa- 
sions.' ' 

We  find  a  pretty  garden,  a  sweet  hostess,  and  a 
cordial  welcome.  The  new  matting  on  the  floors 
gives  forth  a  fragrant  odor,  and  we  comfort  our- 
selves with  the  hope  that  it  harbors  no  fleas,  to 
which  the  Turkish  rugs  give  overmuch  welcome. 
Thus  speaks  the  observant  housewife  of  domestic 
objects,  to  which  I  never  had  an  eye,  single  or  other- 
wise ;  but  I  did  observe  in  the  household  an  abun- 
dance of  books.  Here  I  found  every  book  which 
one  might  need  to  understand  the  decline  and  fall, 
the  increase  and  rise  of  the  nations  which  have 
come  and  gone  along  these  shores.  What  a  field 
for  luxurious  study  is  right  here.  The  illustration 
of  each  epoch  and  incident  graved  by  the  finger  of 
the  Almighty  on  the  hills  and  mountains,  rocks  and 
waters,  is  within  our  vision.  The  two  million  of 
composite  races  who  people  the  places  on  each  side 
of  this  river  of  the  centuries  are  mostly  the  remnant 
of  races  whose  old  roads  and  ruts  show  the  move- 
ments of  men,  as  the  rocks  show  the  movements  of 
glaciers.  The  fallen  or  disfigured  columns  which 
stand  about  these  hippodromes  of  the  past,  the 
broken  arches,  crumbling  aqueducts,  dirt-filled  cis- 
terns, dilapidated  palaces,  and  the  half-hid  courts 
of  mosaic — these,  as  the  existing  inscriptions  show, 
were  once  erected  and  made  by  great  emperors, 
adventurers,  or  conquerors.  They  represent  a  pop- 
ulation once  dense,  who  lived  upon  these  now  fruit- 
less, though  once  fertile  hills  and  plains,  which  they 
then  made  gardens,  and  whose  coasts  furnished 
marts  of  commerce,  the  most  magnificent  in  the 
world. 

This  home  of  our  American  professor  is  a  charm- 


2(S  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

ing  place  to  visit.  The  house  is  built  on  an 
American  pattern,  for  convenience.  The  garden  is 
large,  where,  literally  under  his  own  vine  and  fig- 
tree,  the  professor  may  rest  after  his  labors  in  the 
College,  across  the  valley. 

Before  we  were  fairly  settled,  or  had  our  first 
meal,  we  were  with  him  in  the  great  tower  of  the 
fortress,  overlooking  this  classic  and  historic  ground. 
To  reach  it,  we  did  not  require  a  palanquin,  for  it 
was  nearly  all  down-hill,  through  narrow  paved 
streets,  past  old  mosques,  deserted  minarets,  and 
tumble-down  houses,  now  habited  by  a  kindly 
people.  Mrs.  G.  called  them  "peaceful  neighbors." 
They  were  all  Turks,  for  within  the  fortress  live 
only  the  descendants  of  those  who  held  it  when 
Mohammed  II.  took  the  city.  They  hold  these 
old  houses  by  some  feudal  tenure.  They  cannot 
be  dispossessed.  There  is  a  law,  however,  that 
when  once  the  houses  are  destroyed  by  fire  or 
otherwise  then  the  grounds  are  to  be  cleared.  At 
one  point  about  the  Professor's  grounds  a  confla- 
gration would  be  a  blessing,  for  it  would  open  a 
new  and  beautiful  view  to  the  Upper  Bosphorus. 

There  are  three  of  these  immense  towers  in  this 
extensive  fortress.  The  largest  and  highest  is  that 
in  our  frontispiece.  It  is  in  good  preservation,  and 
is  in  constant  demand  for  the  pencil  of  amateurs,  es- 
pecially from  the  Bosphorus  point  of  view.  The 
stairway,  with  its  thick  walls,  remains  intact.  Many 
rooms,  once  used  for  storage  of  provisions,  are  yet 
preserved,  though  of  wood.  The  floors  of  the  tower 
are  going  to  decay.  The  tower  has  a  diameter  of 
50  feet.  It  has  in  its  gloomy  side  vaults  and  rooms. 
It  is  the  very  genius  of  safety  as  a  prison  or  a 
refuge.  It  would  seem  as  if  its  walls  were  invincible, 


TOWERS  OF  EUROPE  AND  THE  AMERICAN  COLLEGE.    27 

at  least,  against  the  olden  modes  of  assault.  We 
get  glimpses  from  its  port-holes  of  the  scenery 
about,  as  we  ascend  to  its  battlemented  top,  which 
is  250  feet  above  the  stream.  The  College  stands 
about  on  a  level  with  the  tower ;  and  to  the  south 
and  west  the  hills  and  mountains  of  Europe  appear 
veiled  in  lustrous  beauty.  Below  us,  within  the 
walls  which  climb  the  acclivity,  turreted  and  wind- 
ing, is  the  old  Turkish  village,  with  thick  clusters 
of  wooden  houses  ;  while  far  off,  above  Therapia 
and  along  the  river  to  the  gate  of  the  Euxine,  the 
superb  villas  of  ambassadors  and  pashas  glisten  in 
the  evening  light. 

"  Here  is  a  vulture's  nest !  "  exclaims  the  Professor. 
And,  sure  enough,  this  bird  of  prey  has  made  this 
tower  his  eyrie,  and,  like  the  Turk  of  earlier  years, 
from  hence  has  pounced  upon  weaklings  below. 
We  descend,  after  our  exalted  view,  and  have  a 
pleasant  dinner,  which  reminds  our  "  housewife"  of 
"  the  welcome  by  a  minister-missionary  at  his  home 
in  the  Piraeus,  some  thirty  years  ago."  "At  eleven," 
says  the  journal,  "we  have  family  prayers,  in  which 
our  host  made  kindly  and  touching  mention  of  the 
guests  under  his  roof-tree."  We  must  confess,  albeit 
in  a  public  way,  that  the  calamity  which  impends 
over  the  White  House  at  home  has  made  us  Ameri- 
cans abroad  more  tenderly  regardful  of  and  toward 
each  other  in  all  the  relations  of  life. 

After  descending  from  the  tower,  we  ramble 
about  the  fortress  and  its  paths.  We  are  pointed 
out  the  home  of  a  most  learned  pasha.  He  some- 
times lives  within  this  latticed  and  humble  house. 
His  odalisques  are  the  old  Sanscrit  and  other  records 
of  the  past,  to  which  he  gives  a  devotion  quite  like 
that  of  his  relatives  in  the  days  when  Cordova  had 


2g  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

its  Moorish  university,  and  Spain  was  ennobled  by 
Saracenic  learning. 

On  leaving  the  fortress,  my  wife,  with  the  habits 
of  her  sex,  turned  to  look  over  her  shoulder,  and 
descried  a  mystic  letter  over  its  gateway.  It  was 
hidden  beneath  the  dust  of  two  centuries.  The 
observant  Professor  had  never  seen  it  till  now.  He 
deciphers  it  as  a  Turkish  monogram  of  the  Sultan 
Mohammed  II.,  who  built  the  fortress.  This  dis- 
covery was  received  with  satisfaction,  and  the  lady 
was  at  once  established  as  an  applicant  for  a  medal 
of  the  archaeological  associations.  She  had  already 
discovered  a  thousand-year  old  pattern  key  in  the 
old  Greek  church  (now  a  mosque)  at  Eyoob.  It 
was  a  labyrinth  used  in  modern  embroidery.  If 
all  other  signs  failed,  it  would  fix  the  origin  and 
quality  of  the  building.  Hence,  we  felt  a  double 
pride  in  our  archaeological  angel. 

This  is  an  archaeological  age.  Only  the  other  day 
there  were  thirty-nine  mummified  Pharaohs  found 
in  nice  linen  and  in  lacquered  coffins — kings,  queens, 
and  their  children,  including  the  veritable  scriptural 
hard-hearted  Pharaoh.  Cases  within  cases,  with 
papyri,  preserved  the  body  and  fame  of  these  dynas- 
ties of  Egypt.  One  of  the  cases  was  broken  into 
three  parts  ;  but  the  Egyptologists  were  enabled  to 
make  out  that  it  was  no  less  than  Thothmes  III., 
the  great  king  of  the  eighteenth  dynasty.  Granite 
sarcophagi  held  these  dead  royalties,  all  sceptred. 
Sometimes  sheets  of  gold  were  found  enveloping 
the  dead,  very  dead  remains.  Facial  portraits  and 
serpents,  blue  cobalt  head-gear,  and  inscriptions  in 
very  fast  colors  were  discovered,  to  illuminate  the 
Egyptian  darkness.  The  Boulak  Museum  contains 
these  relics  of  remote  antiquity.  We  hope  to  see 


TOWERS  OF  EUROPE  AND  THE  AMERICAN  COLLEGE.     29 

them  ;  and  we  have  a  right  to  see  them,  for  has  not 
one  of  our  family  found  fame  as  an  archaeologist 
on  the  Bosphorus,  which  Pickwick,  in  his  crude  en- 
deavor to  decipher  "  Bill  Sykes  x  his  mark,"  could 
not  attain  ?  Coming  out  of  the  Flag-tower  of  the 
Great  Fortress  of  Europe, — a  tower  upon  which 
hung  the  destiny  of  two  great  races  and  religions, — 
the  tower  by  which  Constantinople  was  besieged — 
had  she  not  discovered  the  magic  letter  over  that 
gateway,  and  in  Turkish  script  ?  Our  learned  friend, 
the  Professor,  at  once  said  :  "  It  is  an  M.  You, 
Madam,  are  made  immortal  with  an  M.  Your  im- 
mortality shall  go  down  with  one  '  M.' ' 

Mohammed  II.  !  He  that  rode  into  the  grandest 
church  on  horseback  !  Let  Schliemann  turn  up  all 
Troy  for  the  decoration  of  his  wife  with  the  parure 
of  Helen's  head-dress  ;  let  him  dig  around  to  find 
the  bones  of  the  suitors  for  Penelope's  hand,  while 
Ulysses  was  a-wandering,  and  find,  if  he  please,  the 
very  distaff  with  which  she  used  to  kill  time  ;  let 
Cesnola  emulate  Layard,  and  Newton  and  Wood 
emulate  the  archaeologists  of  all  ages  ;  let  Nineveh 
and  Babylon,  Baalbec  and  Troy,  Thebes  and  Cy- 
prus, Kertch  and  Jerusalem  give  to  the  living  their 
dead  secrets  to  bridge  over  the  epochs  of  history- 
it  remained  for  one  of  us,  without  delving  or  dig- 
ging, with  the  inspiration  of  only  a  woman's  curios- 
ity, to  discover  the  hidden  magical  M  which  makes 
complete  the  confirmation  that  Mohammed  made 
this  monumental  magnificence  to  memorize  his 
majesty.  Besides,  are  we  not  from  Ohio,  within 
whose  borders  are  now  being  found  terra-cotta  tab- 
lets, an  alphabet,  and  zodiacal  symbols,  which  bind 
the  prehistoric  period  with  our  own,  and  the  ex- 
treme East  with  the  West  ? 


30  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

What  next  may  not  a  watching  and  wondering 
world  expect  from  us  ?  We  visit  Ephesus  next 
week,  Baalbec  the  week  after,  and  Damascus  and 
Jerusalem,  and  the  sphinxes  and  pyramids  before 
we  leave  the  portals  which  lead  to  the  earlier  and 
eastern  civilizations.  No  need  for  us  to  obtain 
firman  or  employ  natives.  We  can  sing  to  other 
genii  of  these  old  haunts  of  history : 

*'  Dig,  dig,  dig  amid  earth  and  mortar  and  stone, 
And  dig,  dig,  dig  among  ruins  overthrown  ; 
Spade  and  basket  and  pick  and  toiling  Arabs  ply, 
From  breath  of  early  dawn  till  evening  shades  draw  nigh." 

For  without  this  labor  the  spirits  of  the  vasty  deep 
of  the  past  answer  our  summons. 

Seriously,  what  an  exultant  enthusiasm  is  there 
in  discovering  by  patient  research,  reasoning,  and 
digging,  the  characters  of  ruined  races  ;  and  in  their 
monuments  their  relict  religions,  dead  constitutions, 
obsolete  systems  of  order,  and  mysterious  mazes  of 
language.  Minds  like  Gladstone  perceive  in  such 
ruins  the  life  of  the  Juventus  Mundi.  A  good  trav- 
eler, like  Lord  DufTerin,  finds,  as  he  related  to  me, 
in  an  old  path  of  empire,  on  the  shores  of  the  east- 
ern Mediterranean,  the  records  of  seven  expeditions 
engraved  upon  the  rocks,  from  Sennacherib  to  Louis 
Napoleon.  Men  test  the  soil  for  fruit,  grain,  gold, 
and  iron,  and  by  eye  and  chemistry  find  pleasure  in 
these  discoveries.  Dust-delvers  were  never  so  busy 
as  now.  Soil  cultivators  of  another  kind  seek  for 
links  in  the  chain  of  history.  They  find  "  pictured 
rocks,"  left  by  men,  and  chronic  moral  strata,  before 
Carthage  was,  or  Rome  existed,  or  the  revelations 
of  Deity  were  vouchsafed  to  man. 

We   are   up    betimes,  and  I   devour  the  books 


TOWERS  OF  EUROPE  AND  THE  AMERICAN  COLLEGE.    3! 

which  are  the  key  to  these  positions  in  history.  My 
first  inquiry  is  as  to  this  fortress.  Its  history  is 
briefly  this:  In  1451,  two  years  before  Constanti- 
nople fell,  when  the  Greek  empire  was  honey- 
combed with  corruption,  Mohammed  II.,  who  was, 
drawing  his  lines  about  its  capital,  and  with  much 
guile  and  cunning  hiding  his  object,  had  con-1 
structed  in  forty  days  this  triangular  fortress,  with 
its  three  towers.  One  of  them  is  on  the  shore  be- 
low, and  the  two  others  upon  the  hills.  Khalil 
Pasha,  a  friend  of  the  Greeks,  known  as  the  "  asso- 
ciate of  infidels,"  built  the  lower  tower.  The  first 
Mohammed  had  already  built  the  Castle  of  Ana- 
dolou,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Bosphorus,  and 
this  Castle  of  Europe  was  to  be  its  coadjutor  in 
taking  the  city  below. 

The  Greek  emperor,  whose  family  had  held  this 
point  of  greatness,  commerce,  and  empire  so  long, 
could  hardly  believe  that  he  would  be  so  seriously 
menaced.  He  sent  envoys  to  the  Sultan,  who  sent 
them  back  with  arrogant  denunciations.  Mean- 
while the  Sultan  had  collected  his  masons.  He 
brought  his  wood  from  Nicomedia,  now  Ismed  (to 
which  there  is  now  a  railroad  seven  hours  off),  at 
the  eastern  end  of  the  Sea  of  Marmora.  He 
planned  the  fortress  at  the  place  where  the  waves 
are  loudest,  called  Phonea,  or  the  Echo,  and  en- 
deavored to  imitate  by  its  shape  the  Arabic  letters 
of  the  word  Mohammed.  In  fact,  the  four  towers 
together  form  the  four  letters  in  the  name — M,  H, 
M,  D.  The  fortress  being  up  and  down,  and  scraggy 
generally,  a  good  archaeologist,  like  one  of  my  fam- 
ily, could  easily  discover  these  Arabic  characters 
in  this  higgledy-piggledy  arrangement  of  walls  and 
towers.  This  intelligent  plan  being  settled  upon, 


32  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

three  generals  ( Khalil,  Chakan,  and  Saricha) 
were  assigned  the  duty  of  making  the  three  great 
towers.  Each  of  the  1,000  masons  had  to  build  two 
yards,  while  the  workmen  who  answered  to  the  call 
of  "  Mort ! "  were  to  hurry  and  cement  the  work. 
Greek  churches  were  torn  to  pieces  to  furnish  the 
material.  The  name  of  the  lower  castle  was 
"  Strait  Cutter."  It  was  built  in  three  months,  and 
was  thirty  feet  thick.  It  commanded  the  river  and 
levied  tribute  on  all  ships.  Upon  the  big  tower, 
which  we  ascended,  guns  were  lifted,  and  stone 
balls  of  enormous  size  were,  thrown  from  them. 
All  these  monuments  remain  in  such  perfectness 
as  to  astonish  the  beholder. 

Other  memories  are  associated  with  the  spot, 
"  Here,"  said  the  Professor — "  here  is  the  most 
notable  place  in  ancient  or  modern  history.  When 
Darius  arrived  upon  the  Bosphorus,  the  bridge  was 
joined  by  which  his  army  passed  into  Europe,  or 
into  Scythia,  about  500  years  before  Christ.  It  is 
yonder,  a  little  higher  up,  where  the  current  is  not 
so  strong.  The  bridge  of  boats  swung  around  from 
the  Asiatic  shore,  under  the  eye  of  the  Persian 
monarch.  This  spot  here  is  yet  called  the  '  Throne 
of  Darius.'  The  rock,  in  the  form  of  a  throne,  re- 
mained. It  is  now  covered  by  the  fortress.  If  the 
fort  is  ever  torn  down,  the  two  columns  of  white 
stone  will,  doubtless,  appear.  The  inscriptions  upon 
them  are  in  Assyrian  and  Greek,  and  contain  the 
names  of  the  nations  over  which  Darius  ruled." 

"  See  here!"  said  I  to  the  Professor,  "  is  it  not  a 
heavy  load  of  credulity  for  me  to  carry  home — this 
army  of  700,000  coming  over  here  on  a  bridge  ?  " 

"  The  proof  is  in  the  history."  he  replied.  "It  says 
70  myriads,  and  10,000  to  a  myriad.  Also  600 ships." 


TOWERS  OF  EUROPE  AND  THE  AMERICAN  COLLEGE.    33 

"  How  do  you  know  the  bridge  was  built  ?" 

"  Here  it  is,"  taking  down  his  Herodotus.  "We 
know  that  Mandrokles,  of  the  Isle  of  Samos,  was 
the  bridge  contractor.  We  have  that  in  writing. 
See  here  !  Book  IV.,  88th  paragraph,  original 
Greek.  I  will  translate  and  write  it  down. 

"'Mandrokles  having  built  a  bridge  across  the 
Fishy  Bosphorus,  dedicated  a  picture  of  it  to  Juno. 
By  the  execution  of  this  design  of  Darius,  Mandro- 
kles gained  glory  for  the  Samoans  and  obtained  a 
crown  or  reward.' '; 

"What  did  he  send  a  picture  of  it  to  Juno  for? 
Why  not  to  Mars,  or  Minerva,  or  some  other  divin- 
ity?" I  ask. 

The  Professor  looked  puzzled.    At  length  he  said : 

"  I  have  it !  Mandrokles  lived  on  Samos.  You 
may  know  that  Virgil  says  that  Samos  held  Juno 
in  especial  regard,  and  this  was  a  neat  way  of  pleas- 
ing his  fellow-citizens." 

"  Why,"  I  ask,  "  does  the  inscription  call  this  the 
Fishy  Bosphorus  ?  Is  it  because  there  are  so  many 
fishy  stories  ?" 

"  See  here !  Don't  try  any  of  Mark  Twain's 
snapperadoes  on  a  young  man  like  me,  away  from 
home.  There  is  another  Bosphorus,  on  the  coast 
of  Azof,  and  this  is  the  fishy  one.  Why,  I  saw 
your  wife  fishing  on  it  yesterday  at  Therapia,  and 
you  may  see  porpoises  at  play  every  day." 

"  Yes,  and  she  caught  four  fish,  two  inches  each 
in  length.  If  Darius  resorted  to  a  miracle  to  feed 
his  army  on  these  fish,  I  can  comprehend  it.  But 
a  truce  to  scepticism.  I  swallow  it,  fish  and  all ; 
for  nothing  is  more  marvelous  than  yonder  Amer- 
ican College  on  this  historic  hill.  Let  us  make  our 
visit  to  it." 


34  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

The  College  is  five  stories,  and  substantial.  It 
has  an  inner,  well-lighted  court  and  a  mansard 
roof,  giving  air,  as  well  as  light,  to  each  room. 
The  students  number  about  200,  and  room  in  the 
building.  One-third  of  them  are  Armenians,  one- 
third  Bulgarians,  and  the  rest  Franks,  Poles,  Eng- 
lish, etc.  We  wandered  into  the  laboratory  and 
then  into  the  library.  The  first  book  I  opened 
was  entitled  "  Religion  of  the  East,"  with  impres- 
sions of  foreign  travel,  by  Dr.  J.  Hawes,  D.D., 
pastor  of  the  First  Church  in  Hartford,  Conn.  It 
was  printed  in  1845.  ^  was  ric^  m  independent 
thought  about  this  land  of  religions,  and  in  devoted 
love  to  our  own  land.  The  first  sermon  has  as  its 
text  :  "  The  lines  have  fallen  unto  me  in  pleasant 
places."  In  it  he  repeats  what  has  been  upon  our 
tongue  ever  since  we- began  our  journey,  "Souls 
are  ripened  in  our  northern  skies,"  exclaims  this 
divine.  After  making  his  pictures  of  the  meretri- 
cious splendors  of  the  East,  he  breaks  forth  with 
rapture  over  "our  own  goodly  land,  with  its  mighty 
resources,  its  free  institutions,  its  countless  bless- 
ings— social,  civil,  literary,  and  religious — which 
pour  around  us  the  light  of  Heaven,  to  warm  every 
grateful  heart.  America  !  God's  last  dispensation 
towards  our  world  !  This  act  passed,  the  scene 
closes,  the  curtain  of  time  drops,  and  the  glories 
of  eternity  are  revealed. 

The  College  has  a  museum  in  embryo,  to  which 
we  were  escorted  by  a  daughter  of  Dr.  Long,  in 
the  absence  of  her  father,  who  presides  over  phys- 
ical science ;  then  into  Dr.  Washburn's  rooms,  who 
is  the  head  of  the  College,  and  where  the  ladies 
dipped  into  the  mysteries  of  Turkish  embroider- 
ies, flowers,  plants,  and  portieres  ;  and,  after  a 


TOWERS  OF  EUROPE  AND   THE  AMERICAN  COLLEGE.    35 

beautiful  view  over  the  scenes  below  and  the  Col- 
lege grounds,  which  are  assuming  a  park-like  ap- 
pearance, we  return  to  our  host's  house  and  pre- 
pare for  the  descent  to  the  landing. 

While  waiting  for  the  steamer,  the  Professor 
smokes  his  narghile,  while  I  watch  the  groups  of 
Armenians,  Greeks,  and  Turks,  priests  and  lay- 
men, fruit-sellers,  boys  and  men,  in  every  variety 
of  costume  and  detail  of  raggedness. 

Looking  around  at  this  rout  of  ragged  rascals, 
gathered  on  the  dock,  we  inquire  if  it  be  safe  for 
Madam  and  the  American  women  hereabouts. 

"We  never  come  down,"  she  says,  "except 
through  the  village.  The  cemetery  yonder  is  a 
nest  of  danger." 

"  Did  you  ever  think  of  putting  these  towers  to 
any  use — I  mean  strategetically  ? " 

"  Oh !  yes/'  said  Madam,  the  hostess  having 
in  view  the  protection  of  her  boys,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  husband,  "  we  thought  of  making  this  tower 
a  refuge  in  the  time  of  the  Russian  War,  in  case 
of  disaster  or  rapine.  The  College  could  have 
manned  it." 

Would  it  not  have  been  a  climax,  to  have  had 
an  American  college  holding  the  "  Fortress  of 
Europe"  and  the  throne  of  Darius  against  the 
Russian  Czar  and  his  hosts  ? 

Apropos  of  this  was  the  conversation  which  the 
Professor  held  with  a  Persian  ambassador.  He  was 
the  kindest  of  men,  and  took  care  to  make  the  cor- 
dialities between  his  once  grand  kingdom  and  the 
rest  of  the  world.  When  he  made  a  visit  to  the 
College,  not  long  since,  the  Professor  said  to 
him : 

"This  spot  must  be  most  interesting  to  you,  as 


36  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

a  Persian.  Here  was  the  marble  throne  from 
which  Darius  saw  his  army  cross  the  Bosphorus." 

"  When  was  it  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh!  some  five  hundred  years  before  Christ." 

"Ah!  What  did  he  come  here  for?"  the  min- 
ister asked. 

"  To  make  war  on  the  Scythians." 

"Just  so,"  said  the  Persian.  "  It  was  well  done. 
The  Scythians  had  displeased  us,  hey  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  greatly,"  said  the  Professor.  "  They  pre- 
sumed to  exist,  and  were  not  tributary  to  Darius, 
king  of  kings  !" 

We  leave  these  scenes  of  historic  splendor  and 
present  squalor,  pondering  upon  the  great  even- 
tualities here  once  determined  and  to  be  deter- 
mined. Is  it  not  one  of  the  most  interesting  spots 
of  Europe  ?  Not  alone  because  here  Europe  al- 
most touches  Asia  physically ;  not  because  the 
swarms  of  invaders  and  crusaders,  Goths  and 
Turks,  have  here  crossed  and  recrossed  ;  but  be- 
cause the  spot  is  doubly  distinguished  by  momen- 
tous events.  Turn  in  your  mind  the  strangest 
pivots  of  history — the  destruction  of  Rome  by  the 
Gauls>  the  siege  of  Leyden,  the  discovery  of  Amer- 
ica, the  beheading  of  Charles  I.,  the  landing  of  the 
Pilgrims,  the  burning  of  Moscow,  the  battles  of 
Cressy,  Pultowa,  Marston  Moor,  and  Waterloo, 
Trafalgar,  the  Declaration  of  American  Indepen- 
dence, the  taking  of  the  Bastile,  and  other  signal 
events  upon  which  world-wide  policies  have  turned 
— yet  you  will  not  discover  in  them,  each  and  all, 
such  universality  of  significance  as  is  here  found  to 
bridge  over  the  ancient  and  modern  worlds  and 
the  oriental  and  occidental  civilizations. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE   UPPER   BOSPHORUS  — PROPHECIES   OF   TURKISH   DE- 
CAY—GIANT'S MOUNTAIN— JASON— CLASSIC  SCENES. 

If  one  seeks 

More  comprehensive  scale,  tti  arithmic  mounts 
By  the  Asankya,  which  is  the  taie 
Of  all  the  drops  that  in  ten  thousand  years 
Would  fall  on  all  the  worlds  by  daily  rains 
Thence  unto  Maha  Kalpas,  by  the  which 
The  Gods  compute  their  future  and  their  past. 

— ARNOLD'S  "  LIGHT  OF  ASIA." 

ONE  of  the  pleasant  excursions  planned  by 
our  friends  at  Therapia  was  to  the  Giant's 
Mountain,  opposite  our  home,  with  the  Consul. 
The  mountain  is  higher  than  it  seems,  and  also 
steeper,  so  that  much  preparation  is  made  for  the 
ascent.  Besides,  as  we  go  through  an  encampment 
of  Turks  on  the  Asiatic  side,  we  propose,  for  safety, 
a  large  party.  Major-Gen.  Wallace,  our  Minister, 
with  his  revolver,  was  commander  enough,  and  the 
wife  of  our  Consul  acted  as  commissary.  Clever 
English  naval  officers  brought  in  a  little  steam 
launch,  and  with  the  wives  and  others — young  men 
and  maidens — of  the  vicinage,  we  start  across  the 
Bosphbrus,  a  gleeful  party.  Prof.  Grosvenor  is 
along  to  give  us  the  classic  associations. 

On  arriving  upon  the  other  side  we  perceive  our 
conveyance.  It  is  drawn  by  white  oxen.  It  is 
called  an  araby.  It  is  a  springless,  heavy,  lazy  con- 

37 


3g  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

cern,  whose  wheels  are  at  every  angle  to  the  axle, 
and  whose  parts  are  tied  together  by  ropes  and 
wires.  It  will  hold  ten,  but  has  no  seats.  We  im- 
provise cushions  for  the  ladies  out  of  shawls  and 
coats,  and  the  Turkish  driver  starts  the  team  with 
his  goad.  It  is  an  antique,  and  fills  us  full  of  effu- 
sive fun.  The  araby  has  once  been  gilded  and 
carved.  I  apostrophize  it : 

"I  know  not,  I  care  not,  if  gilt's  on  that  wagon, 
I'll  follow  its  fortunes  if  it  leads  to  the — Dragon. 

It  was  a  hot  afternoon  ;  and  with  only  one  equi- 
page it  looked  as  if  many  of  us  would  have  to  walk 
the  four  miles  to  the  summit.  However,  we  found 
another  rickety  conveyance,  and  a  horse  with  a  yoke, 
with  some  red  cushions  inhabited  by  fleas.  These 
insects  kept  us  lively,  and  enabled  us  to  enjoy  the 
ruts  of  the  mountain  road.  The  road  was  over  a 
plain — where  old  plane-trees,  some  of  them  thirty 
feet  round,  and  hollow,  kept  guard,  with  soldiers  and 
junketers  around  them.  This  plain  is  a  favorite 
resort  for  Turkish  families.  Here,  near  one  of  the 
palaces,  is  the  spot  where  the  Sultan  received  the 
Empress  Eugenie,  and  had  the  grand  review  of 
soldiers  in  her  honor.  Through  an  avenue  of  trees 
we  slowly  wended  our  way,  following  the  brisk  walk 
of  the  oxen.  We  met  another  araby  of  very  regal 
style.  It  was  "Araby  the  blest,"  compared  with 
ours.  It  had  an  Effendi,  with  three  Turkish  beau- 
ties done  up  in  white  muslin.  It  was  a  bridal  party 
on  a  wedding  tour  for  the  third  wife.  One  woman 
looked  like  a  mother-in-law,  so  cross  she  seemed 
when  we  gazed  at  her  behind  her  fleecy  yashmak. 
There  were  three  wives,  so  the  question  of  mother- 


THE    UPPER   BOSPHORUS— CLASSIC  SCENES.          39 

in-law   became  complicated.      However,   it  was  a 
pretty  sight,  and  one  peculiarly  Asiatic. 

At  length  we  are  at  the  top  of  the  Giant's 
Mountain.  We  find  his  grave  and  a  cemetery 
under  the  shadow  of  trees,  and  a  mosque  and 
minaret.  Some  dervishes  are  there.  They  per- 
mit us  entrance  within  the  holy  places  in  our 
stocking  feet,  and  for  a  consideration.  It  seems 
that  this  is  the  burial-place  of  many  soldiers  who 
fell  here  in  defense  of  Islam.  It  is  also  ,the  spot 
where  a  holy  pilgrim  or  priest  is  buried.  His  tomb 
is  covered  with  small  pieces  of  rags,  signs  of  a 
good  future  and  good  health  to  those  who  leave 
them.  We  ascend  the  narrow,  dark  stairway,  up 
the  stony  steps  of  the  minaret.  Every  object  in 
view  from  this  point  is  of  interest.  Under  our 
eye,  to  the  west  and  across  the  blue  water,  the 
Latin  crusaders  under  Count  Raoul  encamped, 
until  they  crossed  into  Asia.  There,  too,  Godfrey 
de  Bouillon  had  his  ten  thousand  cavalry  and  sixty 
thousand  infantry,  ranging  along  the  environs  of  the 
Propontis,  from  the  bridge  of  Cosmedion,  the  point 
of  the  triangle  of  Constantinople  which  meets  the 
Golden  Horn,  to  this  upper  point  of  the  Bosphorus. 
Here  are  old  earthworks,  made  by  the  French  en- 
gineers for  the  Turks  against  the  Russians  in  the 
last  century;  and  there  are  the  pharos  (lighthouse) 
and  the  promontories  on  the  sea.  Turning  our 
back  on  the  Bosphorus  and  looking  to  the  east,  or 
south  of  east,  far  off  over  the  Sea  of  Marmora,  to 
the  cerulean  mountain  curves,  we  may  see,  without 
fancy  or  glass,  the  veiled  beauty  of  the  ragged 
defiles  which  streams  and  torrents  have  made. 
Through  these  passed  Xerxes  and  his  host.  Through 
them  also  came  Alexander.  Out  of  them  came 


40  FROM  POLE    TO   PYRAMID. 

Orchan,  the  son  of  that  Othman  who  founded  the 
dynasty  of  the  Turk,  laying  siege  to  Nicomedia, 
now  Ismid,  to  which  English  enterprise  and  capital 
have  made  a  railroad.  Here  began  the  march  cf 
that  army  whose  janizaries  were  invincible.  They 
rested  not,  until  the  beginning  of  the  fourteenth 
century  found  them  crossing  into  Europe,  under 
the  Thunderbolt  Bajazit,  scattering  the  combined 
armies  of  Hun,  Goth,  and  Frank.  Here  was  nursed 
that  prowess  in  arms  which  cemented  the  founda- 
tion of  those  civil  and  bloody  codes  of  the  Moslem 
empire,  whose  crescent  flag  was  seen  by  trembling 
Austria,  not  two  centuries  ago,  at  the  gates  of  its 
capital,  and  to  celebrate  whose  repulse  in  1863 
Austria  is  now  raising  monuments.  Hence  came 
the  Othmans,  Amuraths,  Mohammeds,  Suleimans, 
and  Selims,  who  startled  nations  and  made  his- 
tory from  Venice  to  Vienna,  and  from  Bagdad  to 
Granada. 

There  is  no  standpoint  more  interesting  than 
this  for  a  review  of  the  great  struggles  between  the 
eastern  and  western  civilizations.  Yet  now,  as 
we  gaze,  how  peacefully  reposes  the  scene,  where 
so  many  embattled  millions  marched.  One  can 
imagine  the  struggle  of  standards,  the  rush  of  jave- 
lins, the  crash  of  charges,  the  iron  tread  of  the 
mailed  horse  and  rider,  the  dash  of  chariots  and 
the  neighing  of  steeds,  the  notes  of  bugle,  the 
shouts  of  the  knights  leading  their  squadrons,  the 
flash  of  lances,  the  waving  of  pennants,  the  elan  of 
victory  and  the  devastation  of  defeat  ! 

But  there  are  classic  scenes  beneath  our  eye 
from  this  minaret,  as  well  as  verities  of  history. 
Do  you  see  those  white,  low  houses  beyond  that 
village  ?  There  is  the  authentic  spot  where  the 


THE    UPPER   BOSPHORUS— CLASSIC  SCENES.          4I 

harpies  tortured  Phineus.  But  above  all  in  eleva- 
tion and  interest  is  the  hill  on  which  we  stand, 
where  the  Argonautic  heroes  brought  each  their 
handful  of  soil,  until  the  heap  arose  as  a  mon- 
ument in  honor  of  the  expedition  which  makes 
the  name  of  Jason  immortal.  The  authenticity 
of  these  places,  made  familiar  in  the  muse  and 
tradition  of  Hellas,  is  vouched  for  by  no  less  a 
scholar  than  our  Prof.  Grosvenor,  who  has  made 
them  seem  at  least  absolute  verities  by  confir- 
mations. 

"  Do  you  not  know,"  said  Gen.  Wallace,  warm- 
ing with  these  associations,  "  that  there  is  a  sensible 
view  of  Jason  and  his  search  after  the  golden 
fleece  ?  There  were  golden  sands  in  the  mountain 
streams  of  that  El  Dorado.  Not  being  adept  in 
gathering  the  golden  dust,  like  our  New  Mexican 
miners,  these  Argonauts  soaked  their  fleeces  in  the 
water,  which  was  stirred  into  auriferousness,  and 
when  the  fleeces  dried  they  flailed  out  the  precious 
particles." 

From  this  minaret  can  be  seen  the  point  of 
Heraclea,  which  was  sighted  by  Peter  the  Great 
182  years  ago,  day  before  yesterday,  as  he  sailed 
down  the  Black  Sea,  under  much  Turkish  distrust 
and  against  much  opposition,  to  visit  the  city  of 
Constantinople,  which  his  descendants  have  not 
failed  to  covet  ever  since. 

Upon  this  visit,  and  the  longing  of  Russian  am- 
bition, have  hung  many  great  wars,  only  exceeded 
by  those  symbolized  in  the  Turkish  or  Christian 
legend  whose  "  four  angels  were  loosed  from 
the  great  river  Euphrates."  This  has  been  inter- 
preted to  mean  the  rush  of  the  Turkish  hordes 
upon  Europe.  It  was  made  out  in  some  of  the 


42  FKOM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

wise  solutions  of  the  "  Revelation "  of  John  the 
Divine,  that  the  description  of  the  cavalry,  col- 
ors, and  the  "power  of  their  tails,"  applied  to  the 
Mohammedan  army ;  and  that  the  text  in  Revela- 
tion ix.  15,  they  "were  prepared  for  an  hour,  and 
a  day,  and  a  month,  and  a  year,"  was  assumed,  in 
some  cabalistic  way  to  mean  a  period  of  391  years 
and  two  weeks.  This  was  supposed  to  concur 
with  the  prediction  of  Constantine.  As  the  Turks 
took  Constantinople  on  the  2gth  of  May,  1453, 
you  must  add  to  this  the  391  years  and  t\vo 
weeks,  and  you  will  have  1844  of  our  era,  which 
is  the  year  1260  of  the  Turks,  and  1260  is  the 
number  of  years  fixed  for  the  duration  of  the 
Turkish  rule  in  Europe.  So  that  in  1844  the 
power  of  the  Sultans  should  have  ceased,  but  it  did 
not.  It  will  be  many  years  yet  before  these  splen- 
did views,  now  made  interesting  by  mosque  and 
minaret,  shall  glow  with  the  gilded  cathedrals  of 
the  Graeco-Russian  Church,  as  Peter  the  Great 
fondly  wished  and  untruly  foretold.  When  the 
colossus  of  the  north  becomes  a  little  more  assured 
of  his  personal  health  and  life  at  St.  Petersburg 
and  Moscow,  he  may  possibly  help  to  cipher  out 
the  "  revelations  "  which  his  ministers  thus  far  have 
failed  to  make  prophetic. 

We  take  care  before  descending  to  note  the 
haven  which  has  been  one  of  safety  to  navigators 
from  the  wintry  and  tempestuous  Euxine.  There, 
across  the  way,  are  the  Cyanian  isles,  about  which 
Greek  narratives  are  horrific  and  garrulous.  Upon 
one  of  them,  which  you  may  reach  in  calm  weather 
on  foot,  is  a  white  marble  column.  Its  carving  is 
not  a  little  marred  by  time  and  flood.  It  was  once 
an  altar.  What  it  may  mean,  the  poets  have  sung 


THE    UPPER  BOSPHOR 'US—CLASSIC  SCENES.  43 

who  have  located  Jason,  his  myths,  and  company  of 
fifty  Argonauts  along  these  points.  Here,  too, 
geology  once  agreed  with  tradition  that  the  press- 
ure of  the  waters  of  the  Euxine  broke  a  passage 
through  to  the  Dardanelles ;  but  science  has  proved 
that  the  fissure  was  made  by  fire,  which  created  a 
passage  that  the  waters  followed.  This  passage 
has  changed  the  political  and  social  destinies  of 
mankind.  Upon  one  of  these  isles  are  still  seen 
emblematic  altars  to  agriculture  and  fertility.  These 
are  doubtless  Roman,  for  they  are  dedicated  to 
Caesar  Augustus. 

Look  down  upon  the  promontory  at  the  mouth 
of  the  sea  on  the  Asiatic  side !  The  tower  of 
Medea  shines  in  white,  as  a  lighthouse,  while  the 
ruins  of  the  temples  to  the  gods  and  goddesses, 
protectors  of  the  sailors,  are  everywhere  to  be 
seen.  Our  double  summit  of  a  mountain — some- 
times called  Mount  Joshua,  and  sometimes  the 
Back  of  Hercules — has  its  present  name  from  a 
giant's  tomb,  which  we  visit.  The  tomb  is  forty 
feet  in  length.  It  is  said  to  contain  only  the  foot 
(ex  pcde  Herculem)  or  toe  of  the  giant,  who  was 
accustomed  to  sit  on  the  top  of  this  mountain 
while  he  bathed  his  feet  in  the  Bosphorus.  The 
tomb  is  covered  with  square  blocks  ol  stone,  and  is 
much  reverenced.  It  has  various  legendary  his- 
tories. From  the  minaret  our  military  Minister 
discovers  a  neat  fort  and  battery  at  our  feet,  near 
the  shore.  Its  guns  are  covered  with  white  canvas, 
and  all  its  appointments  are  in  nice  order.  At 
every  angle  of  the  horizon,  far  and  near,  historic, 
classic,  and  mythic  memories  start  into  view,  and 
make  our  afternoon  quite  a  religio-classico-Anglo- 
American  festivity. 


44  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

We  are  called  to  the  lunch.  It  is  nicely  spread 
on  the  grass,  near  an  old  well  some  three  hundred 
feet  deep,  which  has  a  marvelous  echo.  The  lunch 
is  prepared  by  our  hostess  and  her  graceful  daugh- 
ter. Twenty  of  us  quaff  the  wine  of  Ismid,  and 
drink  to  the  health  of  our  departed  friends,  Jason, 
Hercules,  and  the  rest,  not  forgetting  the  sover- 
eigns of  our  respective  countries.  Tearing  off 
some  fragments  from  our  handkerchiefs,  we  place 
them,  as  the  customary  votive  offerings,  upon  the 
tombs  of  the  saints.  Then  mounting  our  araby 
and  moving  at  dusk  down  the  mountain,  through 
the  shadows  of  the  trees  of  the  Turkish  camp, 
where  many  dusky  figures  are  seen  praying  toward 
Mecca,  and  after  some  gentle  and  profane  dalliance 
as  to  backsheesh  with  the  natives  who  surround 
our  boat,  we  rejoin  the  launch,  and  end  our  pleas- 
ure at  the  wharf,  where  our  flag  is  supposed  to  fly 
for  our  protection. 

Yesterday  we  were  summoned  by  our  friends  for 
a  last  enjoyment  of  the  hospitalities  of  the  Lega- 
tion. To  these  were  added  something  unusual  in 
this  locality.  It  was  a  serenade  by  moonlight  on 
the  waters.  It  was  a  success  as  a  scene,  for  there 
were  no  harsh  Greek  or  Turkish  voices  in  the 
serenade.  The  Austrian  Minister,  Baron  Hirsch- 
feld,  was  the  projector  of  this  Venetian  entertain- 
ment, this  carnival  of  the  Bosphorus.  The  quay 
was  lined  with  spectators  by  nine  o'clock,  and  the 
stream  and  bay  with  caiques  and  illuminated  barges. 

•n.  e     i  •    •  t 

Ine  names  ot  the  musicians  sound  so  that  one  can- 
not mistake  them  for  other  than  Italian,  German, 
and  Polish.  The  rockets  and  colored  lights,  and 
the  thousand  boats  full  of  the  beauty  and  chivalry 
of  the  upper  Bosphorus,  followed  the  steam  tugs 


THE    UPPER  BOSPHORUS— CLASSIC  SCENES. 


45 


and  larger  caTques  as  they  moved  about  from 
Buyukdereh  to  Therapia,  giving  to  the  waves  the 
melodies  the  waves  returned.  Instrumental  music 
thrilled  on  the  clear  air  and  moonlit  stream,  and 
aided  the  effect.  Altogether  it  was  unique.  Was 
not  this  indulgence  of  occidental  and  Orphic  lux- 
ury under  oriental  skies  a  fit  ending  of  our  rugged1 
journey  from  the  boreal  North  ?  These  gay  songs 
of  the  elegant  embassies  and  their  retainers — how 
much  they  contrast  with  the  rough  days  of  cru- 
sader and  paynim,  of  sword  and  scimitar,  of  cross 
and  crescent.  How  they  contrast  with  the  elder 
days  of  sea-fights  of  Genoese,  Venetian,  and  Turk 
in  these  bays,  now  illuminated  by  American  petro- 
leum, and  choral  with  soft  voices  on  the  stilly  air. 


CHAPTER  V. 

EXCURSION  TO   THE  ANCIENT  OTTOMAN  CAPITAL— 
BROUSSA  AND   ITS   ATTRACTIONS. 

As  the  thought  of  man 
Flies  rapidly,  when,  having  traveled  far, 
He  thinks,  "  Here  would  foe,  I  would  be  there" 
And  flits  from  place  to  place,  so  swiftly  flew 
Imperial  Juno  to  the  Olympian  mount, 
And  there  she  found  the  ever-living  gods 
Assembled  in  the  halls  of  Jupiter. 

— BRYANT'S  ILIAD,  Book  XV. 

OUR  excursion  to  the  Giant's  Mountain  stimu- 
lated to  another.  We  resolved  upon  a  visit 
to  the  ancient  Ottoman  capital — Broussa.  It  is 
south  of  Constantinople,  and  across  the  Sea  of 
Marmora.  Our  experience"  there,  with  its  silks  and 
caravans,  its  fruits  and  fountains,  its  baths  for 
health,  and  its  sepulchres  of  the  founders  of  the 
Ottoman  empire,  form  a  chapter  of  romance.  This 
trip  inducted  us  into  the  mysteries  of  Asian  land- 
travel.  In  Constantinople  we  had  met  many  pecu- 
liar types  of  men  and  many  muffled  forms  of  women. 
They  are  hard  to  understand.  In  vexation  we  ex- 
claim : 

"  These  are  spirits,  clad  in  veils, 

Woman  by  man  is  never  seen! 
All  our  deep  conniving  fails 

To  remove  this  shadowy  screen." 

But  when  we  conquered  the  reserve  of  the  inte- 

46 


BROUSSA    A  AW  ITS  ATTRACTIONS. 


47 


rior,  and  its  mixed  travel,  by  steamer  on  the  way, 
the  yashmak  fell  and  the  muffler  dropped.  In  this 
trip  we  were  associated  with  an  Irish  solicitor  and 
his  amiable  daughter.  You  may  well  believe  that 
in  such  society  there  was  a  richer  indigo  to  the 
azure  of  the  sea,  a  new  sparkle  to  the  lively  waters 
of  Broussa,  and  fresh  glories  to  Mount  Olympus,  at 
morning  and  evening,  as  we  talked  and  smoked 
beneath  its  roseate  hues  and  cool  shadows  ;  rare 
fun  when  we  stopped  in  our  druidical  groves  of 
oak,  half  way,  amidst  camels  and  donkeys,  turkeys 
and  chickens  ;  other  wonders  in  the  capacities  and 
oddity  of  the  animals  which  carried  the  cocoons  and 
other  burdens  to  the  city  from  the  sea ;  more  at- 
traction in  the  strange  brown  faces  of  the  turbaned 
beggars,  and  more  alluring  beauties  in  the  broad 
vales  made  fruitful  by  streams  from  Olympus  which 
spread  beneath  us — from  our  hotel  balcony — like 
the  vega  of  Granada,  as  seen  from  the  walls  of  the 
Alhambra. 

This  is  our  first  really  hot  day.  Its  discomforts 
need  the  mitigation  of  society.  Another  addition 
to  our  hotel  group  were  some  Germans  and  French, 
including  two  young  Austrian  princes,  "just  as  nice 
as  two  young  girls,"  as  the  Celtic  daughter  re- 
marked. Loving  brothers  indeed  they  were.  We 
met  them  at  every  place  of  interest  in  our  excursion. 
They  left  us  at  Broussa,  having  concluded  to  ride 
over  Olympus  and  its  lonely  range  to  Ismid  on 
the  sea,  where  they  take  the  boat.  As  it  is  a  risk, 
I  remonstrate.  The  brigand  would  like  such  a 
prize,  for  the  elder  of  the  young  men  is  very  rich, 
and  there  are  always  in  these  hostelries  some  con- 
federate rogues  to  give  notice.  However,  they 
send  for  their  Austrian  consul,  and  engage  the  po- 


4g  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

lice — two  stalwarts  with  rifles  ;  and  after  examining 
their  revolvers,  set  off. 

"  Brave  boys  !  and  polite  as  brave  ;  good  luck  to 
ye!"  the  Irish  solicitor  exclaims,  as  they  bid  us 
adieu.  They  were  the  Prince  and  Count  Deidrich- 
stein. 

There  was  along  our  Greek  guide,  Dionysius. 
He  was  our  companion  to  the  rocky  castle  on  the 
mountain,  and  to  the  tombs  of  Othman  and  his  con- 
quering son,  Orchan — the  earliest  heroes  of  the  race. 
From  the  I4th  century  these  Mussulmans — Sultans 
and  soldiers — have  lain,  in  honored  retiracy,  under 
their  cashmere  shawls  which  cover  the  motlier-of- 
pearl  tombs  of  the  oriental  marabouts  hers,  undis- 
turbed even  by  the  earthquakes  which  have  waked 
up  many  dead  cities,  and  which  stirred  Broussa  in 
a  lively  way  in  1801-2.  The  jewels,  stars,  and 
crescents  remain  guarded  by  careful  keepers,  and 
in  honor  of  the  precious  bones  of  the  leaders  of  a 
race  not  yet  extinct  in  European  diplomacy  and 
fighting. 

Minarets  and  mosques,  neat  buildings  and  active 
industries,  give  to  this  old  capital  a  fresh,  cheerful 
look.  It  is  no  idle  or  dirty  city.  Its  streets  are 
clean,  and  in  this  it  is  unlike  other  Turkish  cities. 
From  early  morning  till  late  at  night  the  men 
are  moving  on  their  beasts  of  burden  or  work- 

•o 

ing  in  their  factories.  The  women  seem  to  be  the 
only  folks  of  leisure.  Morning  and  evening  we  see 
them  pass  our  hotel,  along  the  mountain  side.  Most 
of  them  ride  astride  on  donkeys.  Their  children 
are  in  the  creels,  and  peep  out  funnily.  It  takes 
two  to  balance  the  pannier.  You  want  twins  or 
quartettes,  triplets  are  unhandy.  Whether  these 
women  are  happy  or  not,  we  could  not  always 


BROUSSA   AND  ITS  ATTRACTIONS.  49 

see,  as  their  veils  were  down  ;  but  they  had  the 
right  of  locomotion,  and  used  it.  They  go  a  mile 
or  more  to  the  hot  baths.  These  are  ancient  and 
celebrated.  They  gush  from  the  mountain  side  in 
the  south  of  the  city.  There  is  no  newspaper  in 
Broussa,  though  it  has  80,000  population.  Are 
they  happy  ?  There  is  no  sewing  society — though 
much  embroidery  ;  so  that  if  there  be  any  news 
stirring,  it  is  to  be  got  as  of  old  in  Rome  when 
the  gossips  met  at  the  baths  of  Caracalla  and 
"  swapped  "  their  information. 

Dionysius  jokes  the  dragomans  of  the  prices. 
Dionysius  is  a  tender-hearted  Greek,  and  amenable 
to  fun.  When  the  other  dragoman  was  looking 
at  a  fountain  in  the  great  mosque  he  espied  a 
cup,  and  tried  in  vain  to  reach  the  fountain  for  a 
drink. 

"  Aha  ! "  says  Dionysius,  "  your  heart  is  tainted  ! 
Only  those  who  are  pure,  according  to  the  old  cus- 
tom, can  drink  of  these  waters,"  and  he  makes  a 
successful  leap  for  it  himself,  quite  perilous  to  his 
person.  His  amour propre  is  satisfied. 

"  The  donkeys  of  Broussa,"  says  our  Sancho 
Panza,  "  are  its  clocks.  They  tell  the  hours.  One 
of  them  got  wrong  and  brayed  out  twelve  yester- 
day when  it  was  only  one.  He  needs  correc- 
tion ! " 

We  visit  the  most  sacred  mosques  and  kiosks, 
where  the  bones  of  the  many-wived  Sultans  repose. 
We  found  ourselves  surrounded  by  little  Abdal- 
lahs  and  Mohammeds.  They  ask  for  alms.  These 
mosques  have  outbuildings  and  grounds.  The 
trees  and  their  shades  attract  many  women  and 
children,  as  if  it  were  a  health  resort.  About  are 
old  tombs.  Fig-trees  and  fountains  abound,  and 


5° 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


red  pomegranates  peep  over  the  walls.  There  are 
no  Roman  ruins  in  Broussa.  It  is  more  French 
than  Arab.  It  is  also  Turkish  and  Greek.  Old 
Greek  churches  are  here,  as  usual,  turned  into 
elegant  mosques.  In  the  best  mosque,  Donad 
Monaster,  on  the  west  side  of  the  town,  lies  the 
tomb  of  the  Sultan  Orchan.  It  had  once  a  dome 
of  silver.  An  earthquake  or  something  changed 
the  silver  into  marble.  There  is  a  green  mosque 
here.  It  is  the  sacred  color  of  Mohammed.  En- 
amels and  carvings  of  most  delicate  beauty  by  native 
art,  vie  with  the  many-colored  marbles,  to  make 
this  a  peculiar  temple  of  this  religion.  In  some 
of  the  mosques  are  stained  glass.  Diamonds  and 
other  precious  stones  decorate  the  tombs. 

However  dirty  and  dusty  the  Moslem  appears 
upon  his  travels  or  in  his  home,  he  has  the  virtue 
of  cleanliness  in  his  worship.  This  city  of  mosques 
and  fountains  is  adapted  to  this  devotion.  The 
Moslems  about  us  are  indulging  in  ablutions  and 
prayers.  They  wash  the  arms  to  the  elbows,  and 
feet  to  the  knees  before  they  pray.  Their  prayers 
are  chiefly  recitations  of  the  attributes  of  God  ; 
when  they  speak  of  his  power  they  kneel  and  touch 
the  forehead  twice  to  the  ground.  They  seem— 
they  are  devout.  Better  have  this  faith  than 
none.  When  they  can  repeat  the  Koran  by  heart, 
they  are  considered  perfect. 

After  my  wife  had  made  her  promenade  of  the 
silk  bazaars,  with  much  cost  and  instruction,  we 
called  on  a  merchant,  at  his  house,  to  see  some 
"portieres."  He,  with  his  wife  and  mother,  re- 
ceived us.  The  latter  sat  at  her  embroidery 
frame  ;  and  when  my  wife  expressed  a  desire  to 
see  how  the  work  was  accomplished,  she  smilinelv 


BROUSSA    AND  ITS  ATTRACTIONS.  $t 

resumed  her  labor.  A  fine  steel  crochet  needle  is 
held  in  the  right  hand,  close  to  the  face  of  the 
velvet,  while  the  bobbin  of  silk  or  gold  thread  is 
held  in  the  left  hand  under  the  frame  on  which 
the  velvet  is  stretched.  The  needle  is  pushed 
through  the  material  and  catches  up  the  thread 
underneath  with  great  regularity  and  rapidity. 
This  is  the  way  the  rare  Damascus  fabrics  are 
adorned.  She  laughed  heartily  to  see  our  look  of 
pleasure  and  wonder ;  and  tapping  madam  heartily 
on  the  shoulder,  said,  "You  see  it  is  easy."  Before 
we  left,  refreshing  syrups  were  served  us. 

Half  the  population  are  engaged  either  in  rais- 
ing mulberries  or  weaving  silk.  They&?r<z  of  the 
Olympian  slope  are  exceedingly  abundant,  espe- 
cially as  compared  with  the  denuded  and  parched 
isles  of  Greece.  Geraniums,  primroses,  anemones, 
crocuses,  laurel  and  juniper,  evergreens,  oaks,  and 
ferns,  not  to  repeat  a  long  Latin  nomenclature,  are 
as  abundant  as  the  botanist  or  the  lover  could 
wish.  Woodcock  and  partridge,  with  now  and  then 
a  vulture  and  an  eagle,  fly  around  over  the  haunts 
of  the  wild  boar  and  wolf,  deer  and  jackal,  in  the 
mountains.  I  saw  one  noble  bird  of  freedom 
swoop  around  Olympus — the  bird  of  Jove.  This 
happened,  by  the  clock  three  P.  M.,  just  at  the 
time  a  jackass  gave  three  dissonant  melodies.  I 
hoped  that  the  bird  would  do  a  little  carnivorous 
business. 

We  visited  a  silk  factory,  where  some  eighty 
pretty  girls,  both  Moslem  and  Christian,  work 
the  silken  fibre  off  the  cdcoon  in  the  heated 
water,  and  reel  it  into  convenient  compass  and 
shape  for  weaving.  The  proprietor  kindly  shows 
UG  his  establishment,  and  out  of  cur  visit  jrrov/s 


j2  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

much  economic  comment  on  tariff.  The  cheap 
labor  is  a  franc  a  day  for  the  girls.  Let  the  protec- 
tionists put  that  down !  The  proprietor  is  a 
Frenchman,  and  has  been  here  for  twenty  odd 
years.  There  are  forty  silk  factories  in  Broussa, 
and  their  product  is  cheap.  So  is  their  labor. 
We  are  not  to  buy  it,  however.  It  is  too  cheap  ; 
our  women  must  go  to  New  Jersey  and  pay  two 
prices,  to  enhance  private  wealth. 

On  the  Olympian  slopes  are  the  finest  mulber- 
ries for  the  silkworm  to  be  found  anywhere  this 
side  of  China  and  Japan.  Most  of  the  silk  here  is 
peculiarly  striped  with  red,  and  brings  to  mind  our 
ensign  of  beauty. 

It  is  quite  a  delight  to  sit  beneath  Mount  Olym- 
pus knowing  that  from  its  eminence  there  is  a  sight 
of  old  Troy.  Looking  off  from  the  highest  of  its 
heights,  5,500  feet,  with  its  snowy  crest,  how  small 
the  donkeys  appear  on  the  plains,  even  when  load- 
ed !  The  Lombardy  poplars  and  cypresses  are  not 
as  big  as  thistle  needles.  The  flat  dark  roofs  of 
the  city  are  leveled  with  the  green  in  which  they 
are  embowered  ;  and  the  domes  of  the  mosques — 
and  they  count  here  by  hundreds — look  like  little . 
bulbous  toys.  The  old  palm-trees,  some  of  which 
measure  twenty-four  feet  round — ever  honored  in 
the  East,  as  well  for  their  shade  as  for  some  genius 
of  the  past — look  like  little  shrubs  even  under  a 
magnifying  glass.  From  the  height  of  the  classic 
mount,  the  Sea  of  Marmora,  and  the  Euxine,  the 
minarets  of  Constantinople,  the  Bosphorus  and 
the  Dardanelles,  and*  the  tall  grandeur  of  Mount 
Ida  and  its  range,  and  the  rivers,  lakes,  green  belts, 
and  broad  savannahs  of  the  valleys,  appear  in 
splendid  array.  It  is  a  grand  observatory  for  a 


BROUSSA    AND  ITS  ATTRACTIONS. 


53 


superb  panorama !  Whether  Dr.  Schliemann  has 
or  has  not  excavated  the  real  old  Troy  and  fixed 
aright  its  situation  upon  the  fortress  hill  of  Hissar- 
lik ;  whether  or  not  the  Scamander  and  Mount  Ida 
have  found  their  proper  locality — are  we  not  under 
the  shadow  of  that  mount  which  made  Ilios  sacred  ? 
No  archaeological  debate  disturbs  our  serenity  about 
Olympus.  Above  us  Jove  held  council  upon  the 
golden  pavement.  The  range  of  the  great  poem 
was  commensurate  with  the  action  of  the  deities. 
The  clouds  and  storms  from  Tenedos  to  the  peak 
of  Samothrace,  furnished  the  dread  scenery  at  the 
fall  of  the  "  burnt  city  of  gold."  It  is  not  difficult 
to  realize  that  from  these  sublime  heights  the  mes- 
sengers of  the  gods  came  and  went  in  such  beau- 
teous forms  as  that  of  Iris,  and  that  even  god- 
desses armed  in  the  cloud-compeller's  panoply  went 
forth  in  chariots  drawn  by  golden-bitted  steeds,  to 
fight  in  human  affairs,  under  the  aegis  of — Destiny. 
After  the  every-day  sights  and  sounds  of  the  great 
city,  it  is  an  exaltation  to  be  surrounded  by  such 
epic  associations. 

Our  trip  to  Broussa  is  a  relief  after  our  long 
stay  on  the  Bosphorus.  One  drawback  to  our 
return  is  early  rising.  At  three  A.  M.  we  are  in 
our  carriage.  We  pass  market  people  coming  to 
the  city,  with  their  beasts  laden  with  melons  and 
grapes  and  other  products  of  this  happy  valley. 
Long  lines  of  camels,  dressed  in  red  ornaments, 
pass  us  in  the  gloaming.  They  seem  like  monsters 
of  the  prehistoric  epoch.  We  find  them  at  day- 
light, under  the  oak  trees  of  the  half-way  grove, 
resting  after  their  nightly  journey  from  the  sea-side. 
Did  you  ever  notice  how  strangely  the  camel  is 
built,  and  how  oddly  he  moves?  Like  a  pompous 


54  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

antediluvian,  he  treads  over  the  roughest  stones 
and  in  the  softest  sands.  The  legs  on  one  side 
move  at  and  with  the  same  Time,  and  then  with  a 
gawky  swing  of  the  shoulder  and  haunch  of  the 
other  side,  so  as  to  keep  up  the  odd  locomotion. 
The  beast  seems  to  be  put  together  on  loose 
hinges;  but,  as  with  the  elephant,  you  may  get  ac- 
customed to  its  ungainly  gait.  We  find  resting 
with  us  at  the  oak  grove  many  buffalo,  which  are 
also  used  for  draught.  Police,  too,  mounted  and 
armed  with  rifles,  come  and  go  as  if  the  brigands 
were  not  all  gone  out  of  this  valley.  Our  driver 
finding  one  of  our  own  horses  blowing,  gathers 
handfuls  of  dust,  and  throws  them  up  the  nostrils 
of  the  animal.  I  asked,  "Why?"  Would  you  be- 
lieve it?  He  responds:  "To  stop  its  trouble,  and 
refresh  its  lungs."  We  have  some  merriment  with 
our  small  carriage  boy,  who  has  a  fight  with  an  old 
and  big  gobbler.  It  is  young  Turkey  versus  old 
Turkey  ;  and  old  Turkey  succumbs,  and  turns  tail 
with  a  protest. 

As  we  start  afresh,  the  clouds  which  hung  half 
way  over  Olympus  and  its  range  float  down  into 
the  valley,  but  no  goddesses  came  down  to  our  aid, 
as  in  Trojan  times.  From  the  coast  hills  we  look 
back  upon  a  roseate  lake.  It  is  no  mirage,  but  an 
illumination  of  the  clouds  below,  out  of  which  the 
brown  mountain  tops  rise  like  enchanted  isles. 
It  was  upon  such  a  morn,  "dressed  in  saffron 
robes,  that  Jupiter  would  have  summoned  the 
Gods  in  Council,  on  many-peaked  Olympus."  We 
are  aroused  from  reveries  of  blue-eyed  Pallas  and 
white-armed  Juno,  by  the  supernal  physical  beauty 
of  the  scene. 

Our  driver  and  his  aid  talk  no  French  and  Eng- 


BROUSSA    AND  ITS  ATTRACTIONS.  55 

lish  ;  and  we  have  good  practice  in  making  sense 
out  of  the  unintelligible. 

At  noon  we  reach  our  seaport,  Mondania ;  whence 
we  sail  five  hours  over  the  blue  Marmora ;  and  have 
a  richly  colored  picture,  never  to  be  seen  too  fre- 
quently, of  the  beauteous  mosques  and  minarets, 
the  walls  and  towers  of  Stamboul. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

CONSTANTINOPLE    AND  ITS    PEOPLE-WALLS,  GATES,   AND 

TOWERS. 

The  European  with  the  Asian  shore — 

Sophia* s  cupola  with  golden  gleam — 
The  cypress  groves — Olympiis  high  and  hoar — 

The  twelve  isles,  and  the  more  than  I  could  dream. 

— DON  JUAN. 

THE  unaccustomed  is  always  attractive.  In 
Constantinople  even  familiar  objects  do  not 
cease  to  attract.  In  our  visit  to  our  friends  at 
Therapia,  at  the  head  of  the  Bosphorus,  the  itera- 
tion of  the  scene,  like  the  refrain  of  sweet  melody, 
ever  pleases.  So,  too,  in  gazing  out  of  our  win- 
dow of  the  hotel,  the  prospect  never  tires  in  pleas- 
ing. Whether,  as  now,  under  the  noon  radiance, 
the  blue  waters  of  the  Bosphorus  and  Golden  Horn 
mingle  under  a  shimmering  haze  with  each  other, 
and  a  fleecy  veil  hides  but  does  not  wholly  conceal 
the  mountains,  which  curve  gracefully  on  the  Asi- 
atic side  ;  or  whether,  as  we  saw  the  scene  the  other 
night,  when  the  Ramazan  season  was  closing,  and 
the  minarets  were  all  afire  with  illuminations,  min- 
gling the  double  lights  of  water  and  sky  with  those 
of  the  mosques  and  their  surroundings,  there  is  no 
more  exquisite  scene  !  On  the  south-west  roof  of 
our  hotel,  and  from  a  height  of  two  hundred  feet 
above  all  the  neighboring  houses,  there  is  a  view, 
with  no  unpleasant  scenes  of  the  front  streets  to 

56 


CONSTANTINOPLE  AND  ITS  PEOPLE. 


57 


detract  from  its  beauty.  Scutari  likewise  is  a  pic- 
ture in  this  vision.  It  rises  gradually  from  the 
opposite  shore  of  the  Bosphorus,  skirted  in  its  rear 
by  graves  of  green — the  burial  homes  of  the  Turks, 
who  are  sceptical  about  their  permanency  in  Eu- 
rope. Scutari  looks  doubly  beautiful  by  night,  as 
the  closing  of  the  fast  adds  its  illuminations.  As 
we  gaze  upon  the  nocturnal  splendors,  new  lights, 
as  changeful  as  the  hieroglyphics  of  the  Turkish 
letters,  appear.  Indeed,  they  are  texts  and  names, 
in  fire,  from  the  Koran.  They  are  strung  from 
minaret  to  minaret. 

When  we  were  here  many  years  ago,  it  was 
Ramazan  season  ;  but  no  effort  of  memory  has  re- 
produced such  brilliant  visions  as  these  from  our 
window.  Everything  depends  on  your  point  of 
view.  We  are  now  domiciled  in  Pera,  where  the 
Franks  live.  We  are  near  the  great  tower,  Galata, 
from  which  views  are  often  taken  of  this  city  of 
seven  hills  and  many  hundred  minarets  and  domes. 
From  it  may  be  seen  the  course  of  the  Bosphorus, 
with  the  kiosks  and  palaces  along  its  banks.  Below 
us,  overlooking  a  few  mosques  on  the  margin  of 
the  river,  are  the  steamers  of  the  nations,  and  the 
tugs  and  ferries  hurrying  about  ;  while  within  the 
Golden  Horn  are  massed  indiscriminately,  between 
the  old  and  new  bridges,  the  shipping  which  makes 
up  the  body  of  the  commerce  of  the  port. 

This  beautiful  scene  is  merely  external.  It  gives 
you  no  idea  of  the  narrow  streets  and  miserable 
degradation  across  the  bridges  in  Stamboul.  This 
we  have  seen  in  all  its  dirt .  and  degradation,  by 
night  and  day,  as  we  visited  St.  Sophia  twice  to  see 
its  closing  services  of  the  Ramazan.  As  I  write, 
the  guns  of  the  forts  thunder  out  the  exultation 


58  FXOM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

that  the  fast  is  over,  its  month  of  abstinence  by  day 
ended,  and  the  feast  of  Bairam  begun.  One  fort 
echoes  another ;  the  flash  of  its  gun,  before  its  re- 
port, signals  the  flash  of  another  gun  across  the 
waters,  until  each  one  of  the  seven  hills  h  rejoicing 
in  the  festival  season. 

If  it  be  supposed  that  this  religion  is  losing  its 
hold  upon  this  people,  and  is  waxing  old  as  a  gar- 
ment, it  is  a  mistake.  The  same  devotion  which 
we  saw  thirty  years  ago,  exists  without  so  much 
intolerance.  The  Ottoman  empire  may  be  crum- 
bling like  the  walls  about  this  city  ;  it  may  and  does 
require  props  and  guarantees  ;  the  intercourse  bc: 
tween  foreigners  and  natives  is  easier  than  it  was  ; 
there  is  more  education,  general  and  technical, 
among  the  Turkish  and  other  youth  ;  there  have 
been  conclaves  and  parties  and  liberties,  indicating 
progress  ;  the  faith  in  the  prophet  may  be  ready  to 
vanish  away — into  Asia  or  Africa,  where  it  is  grow- 
ing ;  but  as  a  faith  it  yet  holds  in  thrall  one  hundred 
and  seventy-five  millions.  Among  them  are  but  few 
infidels  and  sceptics  compared  with  other  religions. 
Mohammedanism  has  its  education  in  the  harem 
and  in  childhood.  It  is  tenacious,  and  would,  if  it 
could,  be  just  as  belligerent  as  ever.  One  picture 
of  the  prophet,  as  I  saw  it  in  a  history  dedicated 
to  one  of  the  Swedish  kings  of  a  hundred  years 
ago,  is  that  of  a  zealot  drawing  his  light  from  above, 
with  a  sword  in  one  hand  and  the  Koran  in  the 
other;  and  another  graphic  scene  is  that  of  the 
prophet  riding  as  a  white  flame  upon  a  horse,  with 
a  peacock  tail  and  a  woman's  head — covered  with 
a  fez — completely  concealed  by  the  flames  in  and 
about  him,  which  issue  from  the  checkered  and 
gorgeous  throne  of  Allah  ! 


CONSTANTINOPLE  AND  ITS  PEOPLE.  59 

Professor  Grosvenor,  upon  our  visit,  dilated  on 
the  interest  attaching  to  the  walls,  gates,  and  towers 
about  the  city.  They  have  a  history  coeval  with 
the  Eastern  Empire  and  its  Greek  masters.  We 
saw  the  best  part  of  them  in  a  seven-hours'  jaunt, 
under  the  guidance  of  our  Greek  guide,  who  makes 
the  Greek  relics  a  specialty. 

An  engineer  would  not  be  at  a  loss  ct  priori  to 
locate  most  of  these  walls,  as  there  are  certain 
natural  fortifications  which  flank  the  city.  Two 
continents  and  two  seas  justified  the  founder, 
Byzas,  in  the  selection  of  the  site  for  a  grand  em- 
porium and  capital.  The  city  dates  658  years 
before  the  Saviour. 

These  walls  had  many  an  attack  of  the  Persians 
under  Xerxes.  Pausanius  recovered  the  city  and 
rebuilt  them.  Internal  wars  for  democracy  and  its 
rights  made  these  walls  memorable  before  Philip 
of  Macedon  attempted  their  reduction.  Variously 
allied  in  the  days  of  Roman  conquests,  the  Byzan- 
tines made  their  city  "  free,"  and  it  was  so  regarded 
by  Rome,  until  other  conquerors  arose,  and  fell, 
and  arose  again  ;  until  Constantine  the  Great  be- 
came its  genius  and  gave  to  it  a  new  baptism  of 
blood. 

It  became  the  centre  of  the  empire  of  the  great- 
est of  the  Roman  emperors.  Its  story  has  been 
grandly  told,  as  if  it  were  an  epic.  It  is  worthy 
of  the  historic  muse.  How  many  have  visited  it,  if 
only  to  view  the  city  to  which  Gibbon  has  given  his 
imperial  style  and  illustrious  dignity.  By  nature 
its  position  is  strong,  but  in  history  its  name  is  im- 
mortal. Its  climate  is  temperate,  being  of  the  lati- 
tude of  New  York.  Its  surface  is  that  of  a  triangle, 
whose  obtuse  angle  is  toward  Asia,  and  made  beau- 


60  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

tiful  by  the  Bosphorus  ;  while  its  northern  side  has 
the  Golden  Horn,  and  its  south  the  Sea  of  Mar- 
mora. It  is  attached  to  Europe  on  the  west.  The 
three  points  of  the  triangle  are — at  Seraglio  Point, 
which  I  see  from  my  window ;  at  Eyoob,  a  gate  on 
the  north,  and  on  the  south  at  the  famous  "  Seven 
Towers,"  almost  due  south.  These  sides  of  the 
triangle  are  the  old  walls.  They  extend  thirteen 
miles,  but  there  is  a  city  of  the  living  and  the  dead, 
outside  still  !  There  is  not  enough  interest  felt, 
even  by  engineers,  now  in  walled  places,  that  I 
should  be  more  particular. 

But  for  the  fact  that  these  walls  are  coincident 
with  the  main  boundaries  of  the  old  and  new  city, 
I  would  not  be  thus  particular.  The  walls  extend 
as  well  on  the  land  as  on  the  water  side.  Some- 
times they  reach  the  water,  and  are  submerged. 
What  ups  and  downs  have  they  not  had  !  De- 
stroyed by  earthquake  and  war,  and  as  often  re- 
paired and  elevated,  "  countermured  "  or  fortified, 
sometimes  threefold,  and  with  moat  and  water 
protection,  outer  walls  enfolding  the  inner,  and 
with  gorgeous  towers  numbering  two  thousand  and 
more,  and  with  twenty-eight  gates,  all  having  a 
special  beauty  and  character,  like  those  of  oriental 
cities,  there  is  not,  in  history,  anything  comparable 
with  them  !  If  there  be,  it  is  Babylon  !  In  circuit 
and  enceinte,  in  its  crowning  towers  and  grandeur 
of  height  and  decoration,  in  stairways  and  massive- 
ness,  as  well  in  the  counter-walls  as  in  the  innermost 
walls,  in  depth  and  width  of  moat  and  water  which 
surrounded  them,  Babylon  cannot  be  named  with 
the  city  of  Byzas,  Theodosius,  Tiberius,  Theophi- 
lus,  Constantine,  Palaeologus,  and  Mohammed  II. 
For  the  splendor  and  size  of  the  city  within  them, 


CONSTANTINOPLE  AND  ITS  PEOPLE.  6l 

few  cities  can  compare,  even  to-day.  If  we  should 
take  its  census  now,  there  would  be  revealed  over 
a  million  of  population,  most  heterogeneous  and 
motley,  of  divers  religions  and  races,  of  strange 
employments  and  customs.  It  was  to  survey  a 
portion  of  these  immense  walls  that  we  gave  up 
one  day. 

When  we  were  here  thirty  years  ago  it  was 
difficult  to  get  a  carriage,  and  when  got,  what 
good  was  it  over  such  streets  ?  The  donkeys 
could  then  hardly  navigate.  A  pasha  on  horse- 
back had  then  a  footman  to  clear  his  way.  But 
now  the  city  has  many  good  streets,  though  our 
course,  after  we  crossed  from  Pera  over  the  new 
bridge  of  the  Golden  Horn,  did  not  take  them  in. 
Winding  around  through  the  narrow  lanes  and 
crowded  thoroughfares  of  Stamboul,  amidst  the 
quarters  of  the  old  Turks,  we  did  find,  at  length, 
some  quiet  though  narrow  ways,  where  the  cries  of 
the  street  sellers  were  only  occasional,  and  where 
the  population  were  fezzed  and  turbaned.  The 
jalousies  of  the  overhanging  gables  were  not  as 
strictly  drawn  as  we  expected.  At  length  we  are 
in  a  wide  street,  with  a  tramway.  Between  it  and 
the  Sea  of  Marmora  is  the  Adrianople  railway  ;  so 
that  out  of  our  unprogressive  quarter  we  discover 
civilization,  as  it  meanders  with  the  shore  of  the 
sea. 

At  every  step  we  are  reminded  of  the  "  Arabian 
Nights."  What  do  we  see  ?  Cobblers  in  the 
street  mending  the  "  shoon  "  of  the  pilgrims  in 
waiting ;  shoemakers  indoors,  and  sometimes  in 
the  gala  costume  of  the  Bairam  season,  pegging 
away  ;  blacksmiths  and  brass-smiths  working  at  the 
forge,  and  with  less  grime  on  hand  and  brow,  for 


62  FKOM  POLE   TO  PYRAMID. 

it  is  festive  time  to  all  Mussulmans  ;  slaves  of  ebony 
hue,  in  gaudy  striped  dresses,  hooded  as  if  they 
were  the  houri,  leading  along  black-eyed  white 
children  to  their  mosques  or  cemetery  for  the  holi- 
day ;  old  red  and  yellow  houses,  with  knockers  as 
antique  as  those  of  the  Palaeologus  days  ;  stone 
fountains  at  every  corner,  with  inscriptions  over 
them  from  the  Koran  ;  women  in  gay  silken  attire, 
some  from  cleanly  Broussa,  dressed  in  red  and 
white  stripes,  which  made  me  feel  like  embracing 
the — star-spangled  banner,  flag  of  my  native  land, 
etc. ;  fig-trees  in  gardens,  and  fountains  in  streets. 
Our  two  hours  of  jolting  and  observation,  not  un- 
observed by  the  curious  population,  is  relieved  by 
the  glimpses  of  the  open  Sea  of  Marmora.  We 
peep  at  it  through  cafes  and  gardens  of  inviting 
beauty,  where  narghiles  and  chibouques  fill  the  air 
with  smoke,  and  fruits  of  all  kinds,  melons  and 
grapes  predominant,  are  sold.  These  make  the 
jaunt  and  scenes  attractive,  until  we  reach  our 
destination.  Lt  is  the  "  Seven  Towers  ! " 

Dionysius,  our  guide,  summons  the  warder  of 
the  main  tower.  He  comes — smiling  at  a  pros- 
pective fee.  He  is  a  good-natured  Turk.  Indeed, 
we  have  not  found  here  one  snappy  custodian — as  we 
used  to  in  England — in  charge  of  the  public  works. 
He  ushers  us  within  the  fortress.  Once  there  were 
here  seven  towers  of  immense  solidity,  crowning 
this  fortress,  which  looks  out  upon  the  sea.  Now 
but  three  are  pre-eminent  in  size  and  roundness. 
They  are  notable  for  something  else  than  size.  The 
one  we  first  enter  is  filled  with  old  baskets  and 
charcoal.  It  had  once  several  stories  of  floors  for 
dungeon  purposes.  It  is  very  gloomy.  From  it 
the  prisoners  were  allowed  egress  sometimes  into 


CONSTANTINOPLE  AND  ITS  PEOPLE.  63 

the  air.  Upon  the  stones  in  the  wall,  in  Greek, 
Latin,  and  French,  we  find  old  inscriptions,  like 
those  in  the  Tower  of  London,  cut  by  doomed  pris-. 
oners.  Some  we  decipher  as  of  the  date  of  1699. 
One  prisoner  scratches  :  "  It  is  a  sad  place — no  law 
here  for  man,  and  none  from  God  ! "  We  go  up 
some  hundred  steps  or  more  to  the  battlemented 
walls.  On  looking  down,  we  see  within  quite  a 
garden.  Gourds,  cucumbers,  figs,  English  walnuts, 
and  maize  are  grown.  A  little  mosque  with  a  min- 
aret is  in  the  centre.  Around  the  court  are  small 
cloisters,  used  for  a  silk  factory,  where  girls  work. 
On  the  walls  themselves  are  almond,  fig,  and  locust 
trees,  and  snails  by  the  thousand,  hanging  to  the 
shrubbery.  We  go  higher,  and  with  some  difficulty 
clamber  to  the  topmost  lookout.  Through  the  tur- 
rets we  survey  the  panorama.  My  compass  tells 
me  the  points.  To  the  west  are  bare,  dry  hills, 
earthworks,  and  plains.  Dionysius  points  out  a 
solitary  white  house,  a  mile  or  more  distant,  and 
observes : 

"  There  is  where  the  Russian  army,  three  years 
ago,  were  encamped." 

"  All  of  them  ?  "  we  ask. 

"  No  ;  only  those  under  the  Grand  Duke  Michael. 
The  rest  extended  to  Varna — to  the  Danube  !  He 
was  ready  to  take  the  city.  The  Sultan  had  not 
answered  the  summons  to  surrender.  The  last 
trumpet  sounded  the  attack  ! — when  lo !  a  mounted 
pasha  with  a  scroll  and  a  white  flag  rushes  upon  the 
scene,  crying,  'Ah  !  ah-h  !  ah-h-h  !'  He  is  followed 
by  the  priests  of  the  mosques  and  churches.  They- 
are  ushered  into  the  presence  of  the  Grand  Duke. 
Down  they  go  on  their  knees,  and  cry,  '  Great  is 
the  Czar  ! '  The  pasha,  to  illustrate  the  fidelity  of 


64 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


the  Sultan  and  the  desire  for  peace,  snatches  a  red 
fez-cap  from  the  head  of  a  soldier,  and,  tearing  it 
to  pieces,  exclaims,  '  Let  us  be  forever  friends ! 
Long  live  the  Czar  !" 

Thus,  with  gesture  and  animation,  Dionysius 
gives  dramatically  his  account  of  the  nearness  of 
the  Russian  to  the  taking  of  Constantinople,  and 
of  the  meditated  attack  whose  success  the  great 
powers  prevented  by  prodding,  at  the  last  agony, 
the  dilatory  Sultan  out  of  his  fatalism,  into  some 
action  upon  the  terms  tendered. 

I  ask  Dionysius  to  inquire  of  our  Turkish  guide 
if  he  ever  heard  of  America.  He  asks  the  question, 
but  gets  no  reply  save  a  blank  look. 

"  Does  he  know  that  the  earth  is  round,  and  that 
America  is  on  the  other  side  ?  "  Another  failure. 

'*  Bah  ! "  says  the  Greek  ;  "  what  know  they  but 
their  pilaf  (rice)  and  smoke-pipe  ! " 

They  are  hopelessly  ignorant ;  and  yet  is  not 
this  race  connate  with  that  which  gave  arithmetic, 
algebra,  chemistry,  and  astronomy  to  the  world  ? 

As  we  talk,  that  enormous  white  bird  with  the 
black  tail,  which  has  been  following  us  around 
since  we  left  Odessa,  flew  out  of  the  tower,  and 
made  a  sensation  among  the  chickens  in  the  court. 
That  bird  is  an  evil  genius,  like  the  cormorant  of 
North  Cape.  Our  guide  grows  garrulous,  and 
gossips  much  about  these  walls.  One  of  his  stories 
is  romantic  :  An  Englishman,  Leander  Jarndyce, 
fresh  from  India,  and  burdened  with  rupees,  falls 
in  love  with  an  American  girl  at  the  hotel.  Her 
name  is  Mehitable  Twitchell,  and  she  is  as  sharp 
and  as  beautiful  as  New  England  can  furnish.  She 
has  a  sister  and  her  papa  along ;  and  her  Leander 
has  a  friend.  Leander  became  almost  as  much  en- 


CONSTANTINOPLE  AND  ITS  PEOPLE.  65 

grossed  by  the  "  Seven  Towers  "  as  with  Mehitable  ; 
and  Dionysius,  as  their  guide,  was  required  twice  a 
week,  for  forty  days,  to  have  a  landau  ready  for 
the  party,  which  came  out  here  to  breakfast  on  the 
ramparts,  and  to  study  history.  They  brought 
their  dejeuner  along,  and  with  high  style,  over- 
looking the  splendid  country,  and  amidst  bel- 
ligerent battlements,  ate  their  mutton  cold,  while 
warmino-  to  each  other  over  Medoc  and  cham- 

o 

pagne. 

"  Ah  !  "  says  Dionysius,  "  many  a  bottle  have  I 
hurled  from  these  towers  of  Grecian  glory  !  " 
Said  I  to  the  guide  :  "  How  did  it  all  end  ?  " 
They  got  married,  and  are  on  the  Burrampooter, 
where,  between  hunting  tigers  and  fighting  the  bile, 
Leander   is   happy   with    Mehitable.      This  is   an 
"  o'er-true  tale,"  as  it  was  set  down  to  me;  except 
the  names,  which  are  my  own  felicitous  selection. 


CHAPTER   VIT. 

AMONG  THE  CHURCHES  AND  CEMETERIES,  AND  AROUND 
THE  WALLS  OF  CONSTANTINOPLE. 

The  little  1  have  seen  of  the  world,  and  know  of  the  history  of 
mankind,  teaches  me  to  look  upon  the  errors  of  others  in  sorrow, 
not  in  anger  !  J  would  fain  leave  the  erring  soul  of  my  fellow- 
man  with  Him,  from  whose  hands  it  came. 

— LONGFELLOW. 

LEAVING  the  "Seven  Towers,"  which  are  at 
the  angle  farthest  down  the  Sea  of  Marmora, 
we  go  outside  the  walls,  following  their  land  side, 
across  the  city,  and  through  the  road  lined  with 
cemeteries,  to  the  Golden  Horn.  The  road  is  dusty 
and  the  day  hot.  The  walls,  where  scarred  and 
split,  are  a  reservoir  of  old  lime,  pulverizing  with 
the  motion  of  the  railroad  and  with  every  breeze. 
We  notice  that  some  of  the  triple  walls  have  been 
torn  down.  The  Sultan  Abdul  Aziz,  about  whose 
death  there  is  much  controversy,  gave  to  his  mother 
the  privilege  to  sell  the  stones  of  the  walls  for  build- 
ing purposes.  Their  immense  width  and  height  ren- 
dered this  gift  a  fortune  ;  but  England,  through  her 
ambassador,  protested  against  the  profanation,  and 
it  stopped.  One  point — tally!  for  John  Bull.  Spirits 
of  Theodosius  and  Constantine,  take  notice  from 
your  sapphire  walls,  if  indeed  you  look  down  from 
them,  upon  this  degradation  of  your  once  proud 
city !  The  moat  has  been  filled  up.  Vegetable 
gardens  are  fenced  in  by  its  walls. 

66 


IN  AND  AROUND   CONSTANTINOPLE.  67 

We  entered  one  of  the  towers.  Another  is  used 
for  a  cartridge  factory  and  powder  magazine  ;  and 
I  had  just  lighted  a  cigar  !  We  found  the  famous 
gate  of  gold,  somewhat  diminished.  It  was  once 
a  triumphal  arch,  and  bore  an  inscription,  with  a 
gilded  statue  of  Victory.  It  was  set  up  when  Theo- 
dosius  conquered  Maximus,  and  was  used  by  the 
emperors  on  their  victorious  return  to  the  city.  It 
was  by  this  gate,  six  hundred  and  twenty  years  ago 
this  summer,  that  Michael  Palaeologus  entered  after 
driving  the  Latins  out  !  A  Greek  patriarch,  whose 
book  I  have  read,  pays  a  great  compliment  to 
Michael  for  his  grace  to  the  Bishop,  who  met  him 
here  on  his  return,  and  to  whom  the  King  piously 
bent  the  knee.  There  were  here  once  marble  tow- 
ers of  columnar  grandeur  and  of  rare  art,  besides 
statues  of  the  chained  Prometheus  and  of  the  labors 
of  Hercules  ;  so  that,  take  it  altogether,  this  must 
have  been  one  of  the  finest  of  the  twenty-eight  gates 
of  this  mural  triangle  of  thirteen  miles. 

Outside,  we  begin  our  drive  from  this  gate  of 
so  many  golden  memories.  Over  pavements  where 
triumphant  armies  marched,  and  where  shouting 
thousands  assembled,  and  where  passed  captive 
men,  slaves,  and  symbols  from  India  to  Italy, 
and  from  Gothland  to  Persia,  we  march  ;  but  our 
march  is  not  triumphant ;  for  the  air  is  dust. 
The  air  is  as  hot  as  the  dust  is  historic.  We 
drive  past  the  graveyards  and  hospitals  of  the 
Greeks  and  Armenians.  These  are  outside  the 
walls. 

"  What  a  world  of  people  must  have  died  here  ! " 
we  exclaim.  "  The  graveyards  are  more  populous 
than  the  city." 

The  city  is  itself  encircled  by  these  cemeteries, 


68  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

and  their  medley  of  tombs  are  so  confused  that  it 
would  render  the  resurrection  futile,  but  for  a  mir- 
acle !  These,  let  it  be  known,  are  but  a  portion  of 
the  immense  cemeteries  of  this  vicinity.  Scutari,  on 
the  Asiatic  side,  is  more  populous  with  the  dead 
than  upon  this  side;  but  upon  every  hill,  and  far 
along  up  the  Bosphorus,  the  same  unperpendicular 
tombstones  appear,  under  the  high  and  dry  cy- 
presses. The  romance  of  the  cemeteries  disappears 
when  you  are  within  close  sight  of  them.  If  there 
be  two  millions  of  people  in  and  around  these  cities, 
there  are  as  many  tombstones  also — if  not  more. 

We  enter  a  Greek  church.  It  is  known  for  its 
sacred  waters.  As  there  are  so  many  of  these 
sacred  water  sources  around  the  walls,  it  may  be 
worth  while  to  refer  to  this,  the  most  celebrated 
one,  and  from  one  learn  all.  It  is  at  the  Pighi 
church,  and  has  great  celebrity.  On  Fridays  and 
Sundays  the  environs  and  church  are  jammed  with 
the  thousands  who  come  here  to  wash  and  drink 
and  carry  off  the  water  in  bottles.  Our  Greek 
guide,  Dionysius,  drew  out  a  bottle  from  his 
pocket ;  he  said  it  was  for  the  porter  at  the  hotel, 
a  Greek  of  pious  inclination.  This  church  has 
had  its  fires  and  earthquakes,  and  also  its  rebuild- 
ings.  It  was  once  the  seat  as  well  of  wealth  as  of 
palaces,  of  royal  marriages  and  poetic  frenzy.  Its 
grounds  were  in  the  earlier  centuries  carpeted  with 
flowers,  and  there  was  a  cypress  forest  of  great 
extent.  We  went  below  to  the  spring  and  the 
crypt  of  the  church,  where  there  are  pictures  of 
miraculous  cure.  As  all  were  permitted  to  use 
the  water,  whether  a  Greek  religionist  or  not,  we 
took  a  drink  and  a  wash.  It  was  refreshing. 
There  are  fish  in  the  fountain.  They,  too,  are 


IN  AND  AROUND   CONSTANTINOPLE  69 

called  holy.  There  is  a  story  about  them.  It  con- 
cerns the  taking  of  the  city  by  Mohammed  II.,  and 
the  remark  of  a  Greek  priest  that  he"  would  as  soon 
expect  to  see  the  fish  he  was  then  cooking  leap  out 
of  the  frying-pan  into  the  fire,  as  the  Turks  take 
Constantinople  from  the  Greeks.  Just  then  a  half- 
done  fish  leaped  out,  and  Constantinople  fell !  Out 
of  this  story — which  is,  like  other  oriental  stories, 
to  be  considered  as  a  parable  rather  than  a  fact — 
it  is  alleged  that  the  custom  of  regarding  the  fish 
as  sacred  grew  apace.  May  be,  it  was  for  some 
reason  more  interesting,  viz.,  to  honor  the  apos- 
tolic fishermen  of  Galilee. 

Here,  too,  the  sick  are  brought  and  bathed,  and, 
if  they  need  further  care,  by  an  excellent  provision, 
the  hospital  of  the  Greeks  is  near  by  for  their  re- 
ception. We  saw  garments  left  by  some  of  the 
sick  in  the  stone  well  where  they  are  bathed.  The 
water  may  have  medicinal  properties.  Certainly 
there  is  much  evidence  to  show  this ;  and  we  per- 
ceive, as  is  customary  in  alPsuch  places  where  folk 
are  cured,  especially  in  the  East,  that  there  are 
many  votive  offerings.  No  doubt  there  is  healing 
in  the  waters,  or  in  any  water  properly  applied.  Our 
guide  relates  many  instances  of  cure,  even  of  Turk- 
ish children.  He  believes  in  them,  and  I  would 
not  distrust  him  or  them ;  for  did  not  a  grateful 
Turkish  mother  leave  a  priceless  ring  as  her  offer- 
ing to  the  church  of  the  infidel,  for  the  cure  of  her 
child  ? 

While  we  are  going  about  the  church,  a  priest 
accosts  us.  He  begins  to  write  us  down.  We  ask 
his  meaning.  He  wants  a  list  of  our  dead.  Heav- 
ens !  How  did  he  know  we  kept  a  private  grave- 
yard, and  if  so  what  did  he  want  of  the  list  ?  Ah  I 


y0  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

he  would  say  some  prayers,  for  some  piastres,  and 
for  our  dead  !  This  was  kind  ;  but  Dionysius,  who 
is  of  the  same  communion,  and  chancellor  of  our 
exchequer,  was  not  to  be  hoodwinked,  and  as  a 
good  Greek  and  guide,  and  from  the  island  of 
Ithaca,  too,  where  the  wise  Ulysses  ruled  and  Pe- 
nelope spun,  he  protests  against  the  mercenary  sac- 
rilege. 

"  You  see  these  people  are  strangers,  from  far- 
off  America,  not  Greeks,  nor  of  the  Greek  Church. 
Why  do  you  follow  them  about  ?  I  will  report  you 
to  the  patriarch,  and  into  jail  you  go." 

The  priest  retired  in  a  hurry,  and  kept  clear  of 
our  guide.  We  saw  the  prison  afterwards,  at  the 
patriarch's  palace,  where  the  unruly  and  bad  priests 
are  kept.  This  a  curious  sort  of  imperium  in  im- 
perio.  Yet  the  Greek  Church  has  an  ecclesiastical 
tribunal  within  the  body  of  the  Turkish  polity, 
which  is  itself  so  closely  attached  to  its  own  faith 
that  all  outside  are  supposed  to  be  regarded  as 
dogs,  only  worthy  of  spurning. 

"  Suppose,"  I  say,  for  there  is  some  doubt  about 
the  Turks,  after  all,  being  so  bigoted.  They  have 
had,  like  other  people,  their  frenzied  zealotry  ;  but 
the  history  of  the  early  Turkish  Sultans,  while 
rulers  of  Asia  Minor,  and  before  they  conquered 
Constantinople,  shows  that  they  ruled  with  moder- 
ation. They  treated  other  sects  with  a  toleration 
unknown  to  other  religions  at  that  time.  Although 
the  Turks  are  but  seven  millions,  they  are  at  the 
head  of  nearly  two  hundred  millions,  whose  religion 
is  that  of  Islam.  Their  early  power  was  built  and 
cemented  by  education  and  charity ;  and  the  cor- 
rupt Byzantine  empire  easily  fell  before  their 
stalwart  prowess.  To-day,  Armenians,  Greeks, 


IN  AND   AROUND    CONSTANTINOPLE.  71 

Bulgarians,  Syrians,  and  Maronites  live  in  Turkey 
and  enjoy  their  faith  in  comparative  freedom.  For 
myself,  let  me  say,  that  it  has  only  been  by  some 
misadventure  of  our  own,  that  we  have  been  treated 
by  them,  in  and  outside  of  mosque  or  cemetery, 
with  other  than  absolute  courtesy.  Once  to-day 
we  were  ordered  away  from  the  tombs  of  the  Sul- 
tans with  a  gentle  and  silent  wave  of  the  hand. 
We  learned  that  it  was  because  a  great  Turk  was 
about  to  be  buried.  There  is  an  expression  they 
use,  " Haide  git!"  It  sounds  American,  but  it 
simply  means,  "  Off  with  you  ! "  It  is  only  used 
toward  beggars.  We  had  none  of  it.  At  no  time 
have  we  met  such  a  reckless  disregard  of  their  own 
faith  from  them  as  was  shown  by  the  Greek  priest 
of  the  sacred  waters.  The  Mohammedans  will  not 
allow  an  unbeliever  to  be  other  than  an  observer  of 
their  service.  This  Greek  priest  was  ready  to  pray 
for  us  or  our  dead,  for  a  consideration  ;  and  irre- 
spective of  our  relations  to  this  or  the  other  world  ! 
Whether  he  will  go  to  the  prison  or  not,  depends 
on  the  magnanimity  of  Dionysius.  The  descend- 
ants of  the  old  Greek  colonies  alono-  these  shores 

^> 

are  not  regarded  by  such  patriots  as  our  Dionysius 
as  of  the  blue  blood.  They  are  called  rayahs,  and 
speak  Turkish.  They  have  their  own  laws  within 
the  Turkish  empire,  and  the  patriarch  here  and  his 
bishops  are  ex-oiricio  magistrates.  They  also  have 
a  part  in  local  civil  affairs  ;  so  that  when  our  guide 
threatened,  he  meant  what  might  be  done. 

Within  this  Greek  church  of  the  Sacred  Waters 
is  represented  "the  cosmogony."  It  is  a  series  of 
pictures,  beginning  with  Adam  and  Eve  and  the 
serpent,  and  running  through  Biblical  lore  to  the 
three  wise  men,  on  white  camels,  who,  star-led, 


72  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

came  to  worship  the  Babe  of  Bethlehem.  It  in- 
cluded the  altar  of  sacrifice,  with  Abraham  and 
Isaac.  St.  George  and  the  Dragon,  as  in  Russia, 
so  here,  is  a  favorite  saint,  and  is  susceptible  of 
graphic  representation.  He  is  here  in  gilded  breast- 
plate and  red  plume,  and  upon  his  steed  of  white, 
charging  upon  the  hideous  dragon.  The  altar  is 
very  expressive  in  its  simplicity.  Generally  these 
Greek  churches  have  not  regarded  the  precept  of 
the  poet,  but  have  had — 

"  Too  much  of  ornament ;  in  outward  show 
Elaborate  ;  of  inward  less  exact." 

At  least  this  was  our  impression  of  them  in  Russia, 
and  this  church  is  hardly  exceptional  in  some  re- 
spects. One  of  its  simplest  features  is  the  picture 
before  the  altar — of  the  One  All-Seeing  Eye !  It 
illustrates  the  intense  love  of  symbolism,  peculiarly 
Oriental.  It  is  found  even  in  the  whirling  of  the 
dervishes,  who,  in  closing  their  eyes,  see  the  Invisi- 
ble, and  in  whirling  see  him  at  every  quarter  to 
which  they  turn.  There  is  a  tinseled  appearance 
in  and  around  some  of  the  shrines,  which  reminds 
us  of  Moscow,  and  the  pictures  seem  of  the  middle 
ages.  There  is  a  picture  of  "Abraam  "  entertaining 
the  angels,  with  a  Greek  inscription,  Philoxenia, 
which  Dionysius  interprets,  "  Friendly  travelers  ;  " 
and  a  shrine  from  the  isle  of  Tenos,  to  which,  in- 
stead of  going  home,  the  natives  of  that  isle  resort 
for  worship.  I  am  thus  particular  in  these  points, 
because  there  are  seventy  millions  of  people  who 
worship  after  these  methods,  and  I  am  not  of  the 
little  handful  of  Samaritans,  who,  looking  down 
from  Mount  Gerizim,  insist  that  where  they  are,  is 


IN  AND  AROUND    CONSTANTINOPLE.  7? 

*  *J 

the  only  place  where  God  is  to  be  worshiped,  and 
the  rest  of  the  v/orld  is  in  delusion. 

Outside  of  this  interesting  church,  and  covered 
with  Greek  inscriptions  and  crosses,  are  the  marble 
tombs  of  the  patriarchs.  We  visit  them  as  a  fare- 
well to  this  peculiar  church,  and  take  to  the  road 
again,  along  the  historic  walls.  We  pass  many 
people  cf  all  nationalities  ;  some  on  their  horses 
and  donkeys  between  big  panniers  ;  others,  includ- 
ing the  hooded  Turkish  females,  walking  toward 
their  cemeteries  in  their  best  clothes  and  with  their 
families,  and  all  having  a  gravity  and  decency,  in 
their  Bairam  feast,  quite  in  contrast  with  the  drunken 
jollity  we  saw  in  Russia  on  saints'  days.  We  pass 
a  Turkish  cemetery,  and  gaze  within.  The  grave- 
stones are  so  thick  that  they  have  become  common. 
They  are  used  for  fences,  for  we  see  the  names  and 
inscriptions  of  the  dead,  with  scraps  of  the  Koran 
upon  them,  in  the  walls  along  the  road.  A  well 
had  two  turbaned  headstones  as  uprights  to  sup- 
port its  wheel.  Upon  the  great  city  walls  we  per- 
ceive hundreds  of  trees,  mostly  fig-trees.  They 
are  as  large  as  our  apple-trees.  They  grow  on  and 
out  of  the  top  of  the  wall,  their  roots  wrapping 
around  the  huge  stones  with  a  vigorous  vitality. 
Even  from  the  gaps  made  by  the  earthquake  the 
vegetation  springs,  repairing  the  catastrophes  of 
nature  with  gentlest  garniture. 

After  a  rest  at  a  cafe,  outside  the  Greek  ceme- 
tery, and  a  cup  of  coffee  and  some  rehatilicum  (or 
fig-paste),  we  go  within.  Some  of  the  tombs  show 
the  old  love  of  the  Greek  for  the  beautiful.  Upon 
them  are  cut  emblems  to  represent  the  avoca- 
tions of  the  deceased — a  compass  and  axe  for  a 
carpenter,  scissors  and  an  embroidery  frame  for  a 


74  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

seamstress,  and  so  on.  These  grounds  of  refresh- 
ment outside  have  old  plane-trees,  and  crowds  of 
i'ien,  women,  and  children  are  sitting  under  them. 
They  have  been  within  the  church  to  partake  of 
and  bear  away  the  sacred  waters.  Men  are  playing 
checkers,  as  they  sip  from  neat  little  Viennese  cups 
the  black,  milkless,  and  highly-sugared  coffee  ;  and 
all  about  is  a  gravity  which  knows  no  laughter,  and 
indulges  in  no  frivolity.  We  take  up  our  march 
for  the  Armenian  burying-grounds,  near  by.  There 
are  two  Armenian  sects.  One  is  Catholic,  but  it  is 
not  theirs  we  visit.  No  crowd  seems  to  be  within 
their  inclosure,  nor  any  ostentation,  like  that  of  the 
others. 

The  head  of  the  Catholic  Armenians  is  one  of 
the  ripest  scholars  in  the  world.  As  religion 
seems  to  be  the  salient  object  in  the  Orient ;  as 
its  ceremonies  are  everywhere  presented  to  the 
attention  ;  as  the  Orient  is  the  select  home  of  de- 
votion to  the  Great  Unseen  and  Supreme  Being, 
from  whence  all  forms  and  faiths  have  had  their 
source,  it  would  be  impossible  to  give  a  sketch  of 
the  outdoor  life  of  these  mixed  peoples  here 
without  some  distinctions  as  to  their  creed. 

Mount  Ararat  stands  nearly  1 8, ceo  feet  above 
the  sea.  It  stands  on  an  elevated  plateau.  We 
know  its  history  and  tradition.  This  plateau  is 
Armenia,  and  from  it  came  a  remarkable  race,  a 
race  which  has  had  more  periods  of  vassalage 
and  freedom,  of  war  and  peace,  under  Assyrian, 
Persian,  and  Roman  empires,  and  under  Latin, 
Turkish,  Mogul,  and  Russian  rule,  than  any  other 
race.  They  have  been  scattered  abroad,  like  the 
children  of  Israel.  They  are  now  surely  advancing  ; 
for  they  trade  and  study,  as  well  as  travel  and  wor- 


IN  AND  AROUND  CONSTANTINOPLE.  75 

ship.  They  have  a  rich  literature.  Their  church 
is  not  unlike  the  Greek  Church.  The  costume  of 
their  priests  is  a  black  robe  and  a  high  black  hat. 
It  is  said  that  they  are  less  superstitious  and 
bigoted  than  the  Greeks.  They,  too,  like  the 
Greeks,  have  a  chief  patriarch  here,  and  civil  rela- 
tions similar  to  those  of  the  Greek  hierarchy. 
They  constitute  a  sort  of  nation  inside  of  this 
Government;  having  a  limited  self-rule.  One 
branch,  I  have  said,  is  Catholic.  We  recognize 
their  priests  by  the  long  black  veil  flowing  from 
their  black  hats.  They  are  men  of  singularly 
handsome  and  benign  faces.  They  have  had  the 
protection  of  Western  Catholic  nations,  and  have 
schools  in  Europe.  The  members  of  this  com- 
munion are  superior  scholars.  There  is  also  a  small 
"  nation  "  of  Protestant  Armenians,  mostly  the  result 
of  American  missionary  labors.  They  number 
about  25,000,  and  form  an  important  colony  in  the 
Orient.  But  it  is  curious  that  the  only  proselytes 
worth  mentioning  as  Protestant,  have  been  among 
the  Armenians.  This  is  ascribed  to  their  zeal  for 
education  and  their  serious  character. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

AROUND      CONSTANTINOPLE— AMONG     THE      DEAD— FOR- 
TUNE-TELLING—SACRED  WATERS. 

The  spider  has  woven  its  web  in  the  palace  of  the  C&sars, 
The  owl  shrieks  its  nightly  song  on  the  towers  of  Aphresiab. 

— FROM  THE  PERSIAN. 

WHAT  troubles  the  mere  superficial  observer 
here  is,  to  determine  who  is  who,  among 
these  various  races.  The  Greek  is  very  like  the 
Armenian,  and  both  not  unlike  the  Hebrew  and 
Turk.  Hence  Government  used  to  order  the 
different  races  to  wear  different  costumes,  and 
separate  "  quarters  "  were  assigned  to  them  to  live 
in.  With  large,  dark,  expressive,  oriental  eyes  and 
black  hair,  it  is  impossible,  when  dressed  alike,  for 
a  stranger  to  discriminate  between  these  oriental 
classes  of  the  Semitic  family.  The  fez  cap  does 
not  indicate  the  Turk  always,  but  only  a  Turkish 
subject,  for  the  Armenians  and  others  sometimes 
wear  it.  The  Armenian  women  wear  the  Turkish 
yashmak,  to  conceal  all  but  their  lustrous  eyes  ; 
but  even  their  gauze  veils  are  becoming  more  trans- 
parent with  the  advancing  time.  Our  American 
College  here  has  many  Armenian  students.  They 
are  said  to  be  exceedingly  gifted  and  eloquent. 

When  we  ventured  within  the  Armenian  ceme- 
tery, and  found  it  was  a  fete  day,  and  the  grounds 
full  of  people,  we  carried  our  memories  back  to 

76 


LIFE  IN  CONSTANTINOPLE.  77 

Mount  Ararat,  and  spread  them  over  quite  a  large 
area,  so  as  to  enjoy  the  new  relations  between  the 
dead  and  living — the  ancient  and  modern  epochs. 

A  curious  gathering  is  that  which  we  find  in  the 
Armenian  inclosure.  The  stones  are  lying  flat, 
and  in  as  much  disorder  as  in  the  Turkish  grounds. 
There  are  trees,  but  no  grass  ;  dirt,  but  no  decora-4 
tion.  All  sorts  of  people  are  here,  among  them 
many  priests  in  their  long  black  robes  and  high 
black  hats  with  a  rim  at  the  top.  The  priests  are 
chanting  prayers  over  the  graves,  in  the  presence 
of  the  bereaved,  while  dozens  of  men  and  boys, 
bearing  jars  from  a  well  in  the  cemetery,  pour 
water  upon  the  grave.  A  few  coins  to  the  water- 
carriers,  a  few  piastres  to  the  priest,  and  kiss  upon 
his  hand,  and  the  bereaved  goes  his  or  her  way. 

We  perceive  a  crowd  about  a  singularly-dressed 
man  who  flies  two  white  pigeons  from  a  stand,  as  a 
sign  of  his  employment.  He  is  a  literary  sooth- 
sayer. The  pigeons  are  mere  couriers,  to  an- 
nounce, as  they  flutter  about  his  box,  his  presence 
and  business.  We  join  the  group.  He  has  a  box 
with  several  compartments.  Within  it  is  a  reddish- 
golden  bird  resembling  somewhat  a  canary.  After 
paying  your  money,  this  ominous  bird  nips  out  a 
card,  with  your  fortune  on  it !  It  is  written  in 
modern  Greek  in  prose  or  rhyme.  It  is  not  in- 
spired by  any  mystic  moonstone,  but  drops  from  the 
bill  of  the  little  bird.  Did  we  try  our  fortune  ?  Of 
course.  In  an  Armenian  cemetery,  near  the  walls 
of  Constantine,  and  in  the  face  of  several  thousand 
years  of  human  activity  and  divine  demonstration 
as  to  these  children  from  Mount  Ararat,  what  more 
suitable  or  magical  place  for  divination  !  Here,  if 
ever  place  was  fit,  is  the  oracle,  truer  far  than  oak 


7  g  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

or  tripod.  My  ticket  was  translated  by  Dionysius, 
thus  : 

"  The  little  bird  says  that  you  have  plenty  of 
friends,  but  some  of  them  are  betraying  you. 
They  will  not  succeed." 

"  Good,"  I  say  ;  "  go  on  ! " 

"  You  are  a  man  who  has  enjoyed  many  honors  ; 
and  more  are  in  store  for  you.  You  have  not  reached 
the  top  !"  Considering  that  my  ambition  has  been 
well  satisfied,  this  was  interesting. 

"  Do  not  rely  on  ancestral  help,  but  on  yourself ! 
You  have  had  much  money,  and  have  lost  a  good 
deal." 

This  was  true ;  for  was  I  not  in  politics,  without 
"  star  "  bids  or  "  credit "  of  any  kind,  but  such  as 
came  of  honest  service  ? 

"  But  your  luck  will  turn,  and  you  will  become 
rich  again,  and  live  till  ninety-two  ! " 

"  Good  ! "  exclaims  my  guardian  angel  near,  re- 
membering that  our  salary  and  income  are  going  in 
travel,  and  that  the  winning  of  the  $20,000  at  the 
Grand  Prix  in  Paris,  which  was  reported  in  the  pa- 
pers, was  by  another  Mr.  C. 

Then  came  my  wife's  future.  It  said  :  "  Never 
fail  to  recall  the  beautiful  teachings  of  your  beloved 
parents.  Your  fortune  is  being  envied  by  your 
female  friends.  They  cannot  harm  you  ;  and  you 
will  survive  all  jealousies,  and  be  buried  at  the 
age  of  eighty-four,  rich,  honored,  and  respected  !  " 
These  were  as  satisfactory  as  foolish  ;  only  we  did 
not  like  the  idea  of  surviving  each  other ! 

The  patriarch  Constantine,  whose  volume  I  had 
studied  for  to-day's  excursion,  gives  twenty-two 
pages  to  the  Sacred  Springs  around  this  city. 
There  is  a  gush  and  rush  of  sacred  waters  from 


LIFE  IN  CONSTANTINOPLE. 


79 


every  hill  and  beneath  every  church  and  mosque, 
and  even  under  the  Bosphorus  !  These  waters  have 
had  the  reputation  and  the  virtue  of  protecting 
the  city,  amidst  plague  and  war,  decadence  and 
diabolism  !  The  Bosphorus  itself  is  most  sacred  in 
the  eyes  of  this  enthusiastic  Greek  writer,  who  ex- 
claims :  "  In  this  corner  of  the  earth,  unique  in  its 
kind,  in  which  all  the  charms  of  earth  combine  to 
astonish  the  human  mind,  soft  and  gentle  breezes 
blow,  and  one  may  often  hearken  to  the  sweet 
songs  of  the  nightingale  and  other  melodious 
birds."  What  would  the  eloquent  Father  have 
said  had  he  seen  the  springs  of  Colorado  and  Cali- 
fornia in  our  mountains,  or  the  Yellow-stone,  with 
its  laboratory  of  wonders  ! 

Nevertheless,  under  his  inspiration  we  went  to 
one  more  spring,  the  "  Little  Balourki."  The 
church  over  it  has  long  since  been  destroyed.  We 
found  its  spring  under  ground  forty  feet,  and  in  a 
cemetery  !  We  descended  the  arched  way,  and 
found  it  dry,  but  outside,  beneath  a  spreading  tree, 
sat  a  family  of  Turkish  women.  They  did  not 
conceal  their  faces  as  they  made  their  meal.  The 
leading  lady  reclined  on  a  rich  rug,  and  had  a  blue- 
and-gold-colored  yashmak  drawn  but  lightly  around 
her  shoulders.  A  slave  near,  wore,  as  is  the  cus- 
tom, colored  gauze  over  eyes  and  all.  The  lady, 
when  she  saw  me  gazing  at  her,  coyly  drew  over  her 
pretty  face  the  yashmak.  She  was  eating  grapes, 
which  suggested  our  refreshment.  In  a  twinkling 
we  had  ten  cents'  worth,  or  two  and  a  half  pounds, 
upon  cool  leaves  freshly  plucked.  The  little  Turk- 
ish "  Mary"  of  the  family  plays  with  a  pet  lamb, 
led  by  a  ribbon,  and  wearing  a  bell  and  some  beads. 
The  lamb  was  sure  to  follow  wherever  she  went 


80  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

We  leave  reluctantly  our  shady  place,  but  the  late 
afternoon  admonishes  us  ;  and  we  resume  our  way 
along  the  triple  walls,  between  piles  on  piles  of 
tombs,  until  the  very  air  seems  freighted  with  the 
dead  and  their  memorials. 

A  splendid  ruin  appears,  which  draws  our  atten- 
tion. It  is  massive  and  interesting.  It  is  the 
palace  of  Belisarius,  so  renowned  in  history.  It 
shows  signs  of  Byzantine  arches  and  great  skill. 
It  is  remarkable  to  us,  because  of  its  name. 
Singularly  enough,  there  passed  us,  coming  down 
the  steep  banks  and  led  by  a  child,  a  blind  old 
man  ;  whereupon  Dionysius  relates  the  story  of  the 
old  "  White  ctzar,"  and  the  "  old  man  "  gave  it  prac- 
tical exemplification.  It  was  to  this  palace,  through 
one  of  these  grand  gates,  that  Mohammed  II.  resort- 
ed, amidst  the  hurrahs  of  his  troops,  after  the  tak- 
ing of  the  city.  He  then  repeated  the  Persian 
verse  at  the  head  of  this  chapter. 

We  heard  no  owl  hoot  here,  though  we  did  from 
the  "  towers  of  Europe,"  built  by  Mohammed  him- 
self to  assist  in  the  taking  of  the  city.  We  have 
seen  no  spider  at  its  work,  amidst  the  dusty  ruins 
of  the  Belisarius  Palace  ;  but  we  have  seen  the 
silk-weavers  in  the  subterranean  cisterns  of  the 
Greek  Emperor  Constantine,  near  the  grounds  of 
the  Hippodrome.  Persian  poetry  is  pretty,  but 
facts  are  stubborn  prose.  History  tells  us,  that 
before  Belisarius  and  his  conquering  army  fell  Hun, 
Persian,  African,  Vandal,  and  Goth.  He  was  the 
glory  of  the  Greeks.  In  the  Hippodrome  he 
received  apotheosis  for  his  exploits.  Yet  he  was  the 
same  who,  poor  and  blind,  dragged  himself  along  the 
highways  asking  alms  at  the  base  of  the  monuments 
his  valor  had  preserved.  It  is  a  reproach  to  Jus- 


LIFE  IN   CONSTANTINOPLE.  £j 

tinian  that  such  ignominy  should  have  been  allowed 
under  his  enlightened  reign.  Belisarius  achieved 
a  final  victory  over  the  Huns  at  these  very  gates, 
and  for  it  was  once  more  immortalized. 

It  may  not  interest  American  readers  to  dwell 
upon  these  remnants  of  old  empire  ;  but  still,  those 
who  have  read  the  history  and  romances  of  the 
elder  day  will  take  some  interest  in  them.  I  met  a 
young  graduate  of  Yale  traveling  all  alone  here 
yesterday.  He  was  from  Pittsburg.  I  asked  him 
the  object  of  his  coming  away  off  here,  amidst  the 
dusty  spoils  of  Time,  leaving  Paris  and  London,  in 
their  living  luxuries,  to  study  the  decay  and  fall  of 
empire.  He  said  :  "  I  read  Gibbon,  and  I  could 
not  rest  till  I  looked  upon  this  capital  of  the  East- 
ern Empire."  I  admired  his  perseverance,  and  saw 
through  his  eyes  my  own  enthusiasm  of  thirty 
years  ago,  when  I  came  here  under  similar  im- 
pulses. 

One  more  mosque,  and  we  will  move  toward  the 
Golden  Horn.  It  is  called  Ghora.  It  is  a  wonder, 
not  merely  because  it  is  older  by  one  hundred  and 
fifty  years  than  Sophia,  but  because  the  Moslem 
priests,  who  control  it,  have  allowed  the  "  infidel " 
pictures  of  the  early  Greek  Church  to  drop  their 
smear  of  paint  and  whitewash  and  come  to  the 
light.  The  mosaics  of  a  thousand  years  ago,  with 
the  Greek  crosses,  are  here  in  resplendent  gold  and 
hues,  as  plainly  as  they  were  when  Comenus  ruled, 
and  his  daughter  directed  their  execution.  It  is  not 
a  large  church,  but  it  is  interesting.  A  few  Koran 
passages  are  inscribed  in  gold  on  green  ground.  I 
ask  the  priest  to  interpret  them.  He  said : 

"All  who  follow  where  I  go  reach  Paradise ! " 

A  few  sacred  pigeons  fly  about  the  dome  ;  while 


3 2  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

all  about  was  written,  as  if  because  the  air  was 
shining  with  Christian  illustrations,  the  word  :  "Al- 
lah! Allah!"  A  singular  picture  of  Noah's  ark 
hangs  upon  the  walls  ;  the  meaning  of  which,  just 
there,  I  could  not  decipher.  My  wife  found,  in  an 
old  bronze  door,  the  "  key  pattern  " — a  labyrinthine 
institution  with  which  she  seemed  familiar,  and 
which  has  come  down  with  the  Greek  civilization 
to  make  embroidery  beautiful.  This  church,  like 
those  of  the  middle  ages,  had  separate  latticed 
apartments  up-stairs,  like  those  in  the  House  of 
Commons,  for  the  gentle  sex.  From  its  windows 
we  look  upon  the  Golden  Horn  and  the  tower  of 
Galata  in  Pera,  and  toward  the  hill  of  Scutari  be- 
yond. Coming  from  this  singularly  mixed  church- 
mosque,  and  following  the  walls,  we  are  still  pursued 
by  the  turbaned  gravestones.  Upon  an  eminence 
overlooking  the  Golden  Horn,  and  to  the  end  of  it, 
where  are  green  islands  and  the  "  sweet  waters  of 
Europe,"  we  perceive  rural  kiosks  and  palaces, 
while  around  us  we  find  ourselves  again  surrounded 
by  the  tombs  of  dead  Ottomans !  They  are  of  a 
higher  grade,  however.  This  one  is  that  of  a  Sul- 
tan's officer  of  rank,  for  there  is  a  crown  over  it ; 
another,  with  a  large  turban  of  peculiar  size,  is  one 
of  the  Sultan's  guard  ;  two  daughters  of  a  rich  man 
are  without  turban,  and  have  gilt  letters  ;  a  green 
and  red  turban  indicates  one  of  the  large  family  of 
Mohammed ;  another,  with  bunches  of  grapes,  shows 
the  number  of  children  the  dead  mother  bore  ;  and 
so  on,  in  every  variety. 

Just  as  we  are  pondering  over  the  infinity  of 
tombs,  a  shrill,  ringing  voice  comes  forth  from  the 
minaret  below,  echoed  by  some  one  from  a  neigh- 
boring minaret.  It  is  the  cry  to  prayers.  A  stoVk, 


LIFE   IN  CONSTANTINOPLE.  83 

frightened  by  the  cry,  starts  out  of  the  cypress 
grove  below.  Proceeding  down  hill  to  the  walls, 
we  are  still  amidst  the  tombs,  but  they  are  of  better 
quality.  They  are  now  shut  in  with  sacred  care. 
One  is  that  of  a  hermit  in  a  vault,  into  which  we  look. 
The  coffin  is  of  green,  for  he  is  of  Mohammed's 
family.  A  tin  cup  hangs  out,  and  a  fountain  near, 
so  that  the  devotee  may  throw  the  water  in  upon 
his  grave.  Still  going  down  the  hill,  we  pass  the 
temples  for  the  tombs  of  the  Sultans,  into  which 
we  do  not  enter.  We  gaze  in  upon  them.  They 
seem  arrayed  in  mother-of-pearl  and  Cashmere 
shawls.  An  extinguisher  is  over  each  of  the  large 
candles  which  stand  around,  an  emblem  of  the  light 
having  gone  out. 

Our  last  adventure  is  to  the  patriarchal  home  and 
conclave  of  the  Greek  Church.  To  this  we  are  ad- 
mitted. We  approach  it,  not  without  due  respect ; 
for  in  the  convents  of  these  religionists  were  pre- 
served not  merely  the  truths  of  our  gospel,  but  the 
classics  of  the  great  Greeks  !  A  whole  chapter 
might  be  written  about  the  libraries  of  these  schol- 
ars, which  time,  ignorance,  bigotry,  and  war  have 
destroyed.  It  was  with  a  pain  at  the  heart  that  I 
read  this  translation  of  the  words  of  the  Greek  pa- 
triarch, whose  book  has  been  my  Mentor  in  this 
day's  tour.  How  curiously  it  treats  of  the  inductive 
and  other  philosophers  :  "  With  the  precipitate  fall 
of  the  empire  the  lights  of  Greek  instruction  were 
also  extinguished.  Some  remains  only  (thanks  to 
the  clergy)  found  an  asylum  in  the  Patriarchal 
School  of  Constantinople,  and  were  preserved  down 
to  our  time.  But  in  this  school  the  works  of  Plato 
were  committed  to  the  flames  by  the  Scholarius 
Gennodius,  who  became  patriarch  after  the  con- 


34  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

quest  of  Constantinople.  Then  the  works  of  Aris- 
totle were  destroyed  by  these  eclectics,  who  would 
not  tolerate  the  liberty  of  thought.  Descartes  was 
the  first  to  show  that  one  must  judge  freely  philo- 
sophical systems,  without  regard  to  the  authors,  be 
they  whom  they  may.  The  immortal  Newton  intro- 
duced in  society  the  right  to  examine  and  freely  to 
treat  upon  different  subjects — a  right  abolished  now 
some  two  thousand  years  ! " 

We  look  upon  the  portraits  in  this  seat  of  power 
and  scholarship  ;  we  see  about,  their  emblems  of 
authority.  Their  power  over  their  church  is  as- 
sured by  their  loyalty  to  "  the  powers  that  be," 
which  was  tested  in  the  troubles  between  Greece 
and  the  Porte.  The  portrait  of  the  new  patriarch 
was  there.  We  saw  him  the  other  day,  in  a 
ca'ique,  on  his  way  to  his  summer  home,  above 
Therapia,  and  his  clear,  high  forehead  shone  with 
the  mental  power  he  is  said  to  possess.  To  be  the 
head  of  any  of  these  eastern  churches,  in  a  locality 
like  this,  where  the  literature  is  in  many  tongues, 
and  where  the  ordinary  trader  must  be  master  of 
several  languages,  requires  that  scholarship  should 
go  hand-in-hand  with  high  qualities  and  lineage, 
and  suavity  and  firmness  be  ever  alert  to  assist  and 
defend  the  ecclesiastical  polity  which  has  come 
down  through  the  ages. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THE  OLD  SERAGLIO— ST.  SOPHIA— THE  OLD  GREEK  HIPPO- 
DROME— THE     MUSEUM    OF    ANCIENT    COSTUMES— 
AMONG    THE   HOWLING    DERVISHES. 

Be  ye  certain  all  seems  love, 
Viewed  from  Allah's  throne  above  j 
Be  ye  stout  of  heart,  and  come 
Bravely  onward  to  your  home. 
La  Allah  ilia  Allah  !     Yea, 
Thou  love  divine.      Thou  love  alway. 

—FROM  THE  PERSIAN,  BY  EDWIN  ARNOLD. 

WE  desired  to  see  the  old  Seraglio  Point 
within  itself.  It  juts  into  the  stream  and 
forms  the  entrance  of  the  Bosphorus,  dividing  the 
Sea  of  Marmora  from  the  Golden  Horn.  When 
we  were  here  before,  the  harem  was  there.  We 
visited  it  then,  went  inside  the  palace  where  the 
Sultanas  lived,  and  rambled  in  the  luxuriant  grounds 
which  yet  rise  about  it.  The  interior  was  then 
disappointing.  The  divan  and  drapery  of  the  gor- 
geous East  were  not  there.  Tables,  chairs,  and 
poor  French  prints  were  the  only  decorations ;  but 
the  baths  and  fountains  we  remember  well.  They 
were  characteristic  and  Eastern.  The  marble  halls 
were  bright,  and  the  honeycomb  fountains  within 
murmured  a  lullaby  to  the  Sea  of  Marmora  with- 
out. But  the  place  then  had  the  odor  of  blood, 
even  upon  its  white  pavements.  There  were  more 
sighs  lingering  about  the  mysterious  opening  upon 
the  Bosphorus  than  the  sweet  air  could  hold.  The 

85 


86  FROM  POLE    TO   PYRAMID. 

Adrianople  railroad  now  runs  through  the  old 
palace  ground,  round  the  point,  to  the  depot  on 
the  Golden  Horn.  The  abode  of  the  Sultan, 
which  was  regarded  as  a  sacred  spot  in  1851,  and 
into  which  we  passed  unsandaled,  has  given  place  to 
the  goblin  of  steam,  whose  shrieks  are  more  mellif- 
luous to  the  ear  than  those  of  the  wives  who  were 
sacked  into  the  stream  at  this  once  convenient 
point  of  perpetual  divorcement. 

The  day  of  our  visit  happened  to  be  the  anni- 
versary of  the  Sultan's  coronation  ;  and  we  were 
allowed,  without  hindrance  from  the  chief  of  the 
public  grounds  on  the  point,  to  go  about  without 
the  customary  firman.  A  fairy  kiosk  stands  high 
on  the  point.  There  the  Sultan  sometimes  stops, 
and,  from  the  further  side,  reviews  the  troops,  when 
war  begins,  and  drops  upon  them  his  blessing ! 
This  kiosk  rises  above  the  gardens  of  the  Theodo- 
sian  column.  It  is  shut  in  by  a  whitewashed  wall. 
This  beautiful  antique  column  has  been  almost  in- 
closed since  we  were  here  by  trees.  Thirty  years 
in  the  life  of  a  tree  or  a  man  makes  much  change. 
The  beauty  of  the  column  is  hardly  seen  for  the 
foliage.  On  its  iron  fence,  the  dirty  linen  of  offi- 
cials hangs  out  to  dry.  This  column  is  sometimes 
conjectured  to  be  the  column  of  Simeon  the  Stylite, 
but  it  is  only  conjecture.  It  is  Corinthian  and 
beautiful.  It  held  the  statue  of  Theodosius  once, 
and  was  built  in  his  honor,  because  the  Goths  came 
here  then  to  offer  submission  to  the  Roman  power. 
These  Northmen  asked  to  be  permitted  to  colonize 
Thrace  and  Asia  Minor.  If  they  had  been  accepted 
as  the  colonists  in  these  now  barren  lands,  what 
would  have  been  the  state  of  mankind  !  Where,  if 
their  genius  had  been  given  to  Asia,  and  not  to 


ANCIENT  CHURCHES  AND    COSTUMES.  87 

Europe,  would  have  been  the  great  Teutonic  nation 
and  the  relation  of  the  races  ? 

From  this  point  across  to  Scutari  you  perceive  a 
yellow  building.  It  is  the  Nightingale  Hospital, 
of  gentlest  renown.  It  is  now  used  in  part  for  a 
barracks.  Beyond  it  is  the  British  cemetery,  full 
of  Crimean  heroes,  and  with  a  fitting  column.  All 
this,  out  of  the  Crimean  war,  since  we  were  last 
here.  Those  very  rocks  in  the  mist,  which  are  near 
the  Prince's  Isles — little  rocky  isles — have  them- 
selves changed  hands.  They  belong  to  Sir  Henry 
Bulwer's  heir ;  and  he  keeps  them  anchored  safely, 
rocks  as  they  are,  by  a  Turkish  guard.  From  this 
point  you  may  see  the  windings  of  the  Bosphorus. 
These  turns — which  make  its  bays  and  currents — 
are  so  awry  that  navigation  is  not  always  happy 
or  safe. 

Let  us  go  up  into  the  open  court  above  the  old 
Seraglio.  It  is  most  interesting  ground,  and  has 
not  been  so  much  changed  even  by  fifteen  centuries 
of  royal  residence.  It  used  to  be  three  miles  around, 
and  had  a  wall  on  all  sides.  The  most  of  the  old 
palace  was  destroyed  by  fire,  a  dozen  years  after 
we  went  through  it.  The  harem  portion  was  rifled 
at  the  fire  ;  but  the  old  ceremonial  inclosure,  called 
the  Seraglio,  with  its  public  buildings  remains.  To 
that  we  venture,  not  without  trepidation.  Our  first 
look  is  at  the  enormous  sycamore  tree,  which  would 
make  a  fit  counterpart  in  size,  if  not  in  height,  to 
any  tall  sycamore  of  the  Wabash  ;  but,  unlike  it, 
alas  !  it  is  hollow.  If  it  were  solid — as  our  Mari- 
posa  trees  are  not — it  would  give  them  quite  a  race 
for  size  and  celebrity.  It  is  at  least  forty  feet  in 
girth.  It  used  to  be  occupied  by  the  chief  janizary  I 
In  this  court  is  the  Sublime  Porte,  the  old  one,  for 


gg  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

there  is  now  a  new  one,  not  so  redolent  of  ancient 
associations.  It  is  a  grand  arch,  with  Arabic  texts 
over  it,  and  towers  about  it.  This  old  Porte,  by 
which  the  Turkish  government  is  known,  does  not 
look  like  a  palatial  entrance.  It  has  rather  a  police 
look,  and  there  are  soldiers  about  it.  It  used  to 
be  kept  by  fifty  porters,  hence  it  was  Sublime  !  As 
we  could  not  go  into  the  Mint,  where  the  jewels 
are  ;  as  we  had  a  clear  recollection  of  our  former 
visit  to  the  armory,  where  the  keys  of  loyal  cities, 
flags,  and  arms  are  kept ;  as  the  kitchens  were  of 
no  moment  now,  since  the  Sultan  does  not  dine  at 
this  place,  nor  visit  much  at  the  new  kiosk  above, 
we  gave  our  mind  to  the  recital  of  the  horrors  of 
the  place  which  Dionysius  did  not  exaggerate,  but 
illustrated  with  faithful  detail  and  gesture.  Point- 
ing through  the  Porte  to  a  window  within,  he  said  : 

"That  is  the  throne  of  the  Sultan.  He  sat 
there.  He  could  see,  but  none  outside  see  him. 
Here  ambassadors  were  presented,  who  could  only 
feel  the  presence.  Here,  too,  he  sat  to  observe  the 
beheading  of  his  unfaithful  subjects.  Here,  on  this 
path,  and  right  on  this  stone,  was  placed  the  plat- 
ter with  the  bloody  head  !  " 

Sweet  thought !  reminding  one  of  a  Herodian 
picture  which,  I  think,  we  have  seen  somewhere  in 
some  of  the  galleries  of  Europe.  Then,  as  Diony- 
sius saw  our  open-mouthed  wonder,  ready  to  take 
in  whole  hecatombs  of  slaughter,  he  dilated  on  san- 
guinary Sultans  till  the  air  grew  red  hot. 

"Here  where  you  sit"-— how  I  leaped  to  my 
feet! — "on  that  very  stone,  the  heads,  when 
chopped  off,  were  mashed  into  atoms,  after  being 
dried  three  days  upon  yonder  crosses  above  the 
gate!" 


ANCIENT  CHURCHES  AND  COSTUMES.  89 

Just  then  a  eunuch  (for  they  still  hover  about, 
though  the  dear  ladies  are  gone  up  the  river  on 

o  <— *  •*• 

the  hill  opposite)  comes  along,  swinging  his  beads, 
and  looking  as  black  as  ten  devils,  and  as  ugly  as 
sin.  We  get  out  of  his  way. 

"Who  is  he?"  I  ask. 

"  He  is  the  head  jailer  of  the  female  prison  that 
we  saw  yonder  outside  the  gate." 

Although  the  sack  may  not  be  used  now,  the 
prison  is  handy  and  useful.  I  lean  against  a  fount- 
ain to  rest.  I  am  satiated  with  headless  cadavers. 
I  try  to  read  an  inscription  over  the  fountain,  when 
I  am  startled  to  hear  Dionysius  exclaim  in  hoarse 
whispering  to  my  wife  : 

"  Lady,  you  are  sitting  on  the  very  stone  on 
which  were  these  bloody  executions  !  " 

She  turned  her  head  calmly,  though  I  saw  she 
was  pale.  It  was  a  stone  nicely  arranged  for  a  seat. 

"That  fountain,"  he  says,  "  used  to  run  with " 

"Blood?"  say  I. 

"  No — water  !  There  the  executioner  washed 
his  gory  hands  after  he  used  the  axe." 

I '  turned  pale  also.  I  shall  never  forget  these 
three  sanguinary  stones  and  that  polluted  fountain, 
not  as  long  as  a  deadhead  haunts  a  theatre  or  rides 
upon  a  railroad. 

Going  out  of  this  court  we  pass  the  porphyry 
tombs  of  the  old  church  of  St.  Erin,  where,  in 
Greek  and  with  Greek  crosses,  the  early  Greek 
rulers  were  celebrated.  Some  pumpkin  vines  inno- 
cently run  about  these  tombs  now.  They  bloom 
and  bear,  unconscious  of  the  terrible  scenes  which 
this  locality  once  witnessed. 

Now  to  St.  Sophia,  Church  of  Divine  Wisdom  ! 
Illustrious  monument  to  Constantine !  Built,  re- 


~0  FROM  POLE    TO   PYRAMID* 

built,  rebuilt  again  by  the  great  Emperors,  begin- 
ning in  the  fourth  and  completed  in  the  sixth  cen- 
tury !  Marbles,  granite,  porphyry  of  every  color 
and  from  every  quarry  and  temple  from  Ephesus 
to  Athens,  from  Baalbec  to  Egypt !  Fire  and 
earthquake,  and  last,  Moslem  conquerors,  have  not 
destroyed  but  only  added  to  its  wondrous  name. 
The  story  of  its  building,  the  number  of  its  arch- 
itects and  workmen,  the  Emperor  or  angel  who 
conceived  it,  the  immense  cost,  the  traditions  of 
the  seraphs  who  around  it  kept  ward,  the  opulent 
altar,  the  immense  cupola  and  dome,  the  doors  of 
ivory,  amber,  and  cedar,  the  veneered  planks  from 
Noah's  ark,  its  courts,  passages,  vestibules,  belfries, 
and  galleries,  its  minarets  outside  and  altars  within  ; 
above  all,  its  pillars  above  pillars,  its  majesty  of 
artistic  proportion,  boldness  of  design,  and  splendor 
of  execution,  not  to  speak  of  the  imperial  seats  and 
grand  offices  and  dignities  to  which  it  was  dedicated, 
make  it  the  most  wonderful  edifice  in  the  world, 
St.  Peter's  only  excepted. 

The  spirit  of  the  temple — ah  !  what  is  that  ? 
Seven  different  orders  of  priesthood,  from  the  Imam 
to  the  Kasim,  represent  its  genii  now,  whete 
priests  and  deacons  by  the  hundred  served  at  its 
altar  through  the  early  centuries.  Here  once  the 
most  eloquent  of  divines,  St.  John  Chrysostom, 
ministered  and  preached,  and  with  silver  tongue 
and  golden  lip  made  the  Saviour  and  his  Beat- 
itudes most  beautiful  to  the  entranced  Greek  and 
enraptured  Oriental ;  and  here  now  minister  muftis 
by  the  hundred,  whose  services  we  have  seen  on 
three  occasions,  and  commentators  interpret  the 
Koranic  law  with  a  strictness  worthy  of  a  demo- 
cratic canon  applied  to  our  constitutional  charter. 


91 

The  other  night  at  ten,  my  wife  and  myself 
started  for  this  temple  of  fame.  She  had  not  seen 
it  upon  our  former  visit,  though  we  made  a  des- 
perate effort.  Our  firman  from  the  government 
of  1851  was  complete.  A  Turkish  soldier  then 
accompanied  us  with  a  dragoman.  There  were 
four  in  our  own  party — a  cousin  of  my  wife,  then  a 
golden-haired  Ohio  girl,  now  a  Chicago  matron, 
and  my  wife's  brother,  of  genial  memory,  now  no 
more.  We  were  fortified  by  two  British  officers, 
then  stationed  at  Corfu,  which  was  ruled  by  an 
English  Lord  High  Commissioner.  Well  do  I 
recall  them.  One,  as  I  have  read,  was  killed  in 
the  Crimean  war,  Colonel  Fordyce  ;  and  the  other, 
Captain  O'Reilly,  an  Irishman,  who  made  the  life  of 
our  voyage  most  merry  back  to  the  isles  where  the 
Hesperides  were  fabled  to  be  situated,  and  who 
furnished  us  golden  fruit  from  its  gardens.  What 
has  become  of  him?  Has  he  given  his  life  as  well 
as  sword  to  England  in  her  wars  in  India  and  Af- 
rica ?  Quantiim  miitatus  ! — all  how  changed  ;  and 
we  here !  I  shall  never  forget  the  solid  and  glee- 
ful company,  made  up  of  German  and  French,  as 
well  as  Irish,  English,  and  American  visitors,  as 
we  marched  and  exulted  that  bright  morning  in 
July  at  the  prospect  of  seeing  this  cathedral  of  the 
Divine  Wisdom,  so  hallowed  by  time,  history,  and 
vicissitudes  !  It  was  also,  as  now,  in  the  Ramazan 
season.  We  stood  at  the  door,  presented  our 
passes,  and  each  nationality  had  its  cavass  and 
dragoman.  Word  came  out  for  us  to  leave.  Our 
guides  persisted.  We  held  our  places.  A  second 
word  came,  "  We  must  go  off  !  "  It  was  accom- 
panied by  a  remark  that  we  were  condemned  infi- 
del giaours,  dogs  of  Christians,  and  some  other 


92  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

tender  epithets.  Our  guides  persisted.  Had  they 
not  the  Turkish  as  well  as  other  governments  be- 
hind them  ?  They  counted  foolishly.  They  should 
not  have  urged.  We  were  not  then  fully  advised 
of  the  power  of  the  mosque  above  all  other  powers. 
Still  we  held  our  ground  until  some  four  or  five 
hundred  Moslems  collected  about  us.  With  angry 
threats  and  suspicious  movements,  much  like  a 
mob,  they  rushed  about  the  door,  at  which  ap- 
peared— hideous  object ! — a  black  slave,  a  Nubian 
of  most  unpleasant  aspect  and  grating  voice.  He 
held  a  rattan,  and  laid  it  cleverly  over  the  shoulders 
of  our  dragoman.  The  soldier  retreated.  Our 
English  officers,  including  the  German  and  French, 
worked  out  of  the  crowd.  My  wife,  brother,  and 
cousin  receded.  I  hardly  knew  how,  but  I  was  left 
solitary  and  alone,  and  covered  my  retreat  with  a 
Vesuvius  stick  which  I  had  used  on  the  volcano 
against  insurgent  lazzaroni,  and  still  carried  for 
protection  against  the  dogs  of  this  city,  then  more 
numerous  than  now. 

The  meaning  of  the  performance,  as  we  learned, 
was  our  ill-starred  attempt,  in  Ramazan  time,  when 
the  Turks  were  fasting  and  ill-disposed,  and  while 
prayers  were  going  on,  to  enter  this  sanctuary  of 
Islam. 

However,  next  morning  at  daybreak,  while  the 
devout  Turks  were  asleep  after  the  excesses  of  the 
nocturnal  feasting,  some  of  us  ascended  to  the  gal- 
lery by  a  back  door  and  through  a  long,  dark  pas- 
sage, with  the  aid  of  a  paid  Moslem  servitor,  and 
there  looked  down  and  around  upon  the  splendid 
temple.  But  it  was  a  surreptitious  and  anxious 
gaze  or  peep  from  behind  the  porphyry  and  granite 
columns.  How  we  sped  in  those  few  minutes  from 


ANCIENT  CHURCHES  AND  COSTUMES. 


93 


post  to  pillar,  looking  at  the  big  letters  of  gold 
upon  green  canvas,  twenty  feet  long  to  the  letter, 
announcing  that  "  God  is  the  light  of  the  heavens 
and  the  earth  !  "  How  we  wondered  at  the  nonde- 
script six-winged  seraphims — Gabriel,  Michael,  Ra- 
phael, and  Israfael — companions  of  Mohammed, 
once  orthodox  angels  of  the  Greek  Church,  whose1 
faces  are  now  purposely  obscured  !  How  quickly 
flew  through  our  vision  the  107  columns,  each  one 
a  grand  larceny  from  other  temples,  with  the  fancy 
capitals,  and  how  swam  in  the  mystical  light  the 
great  void  below  the  dome,  which  was  lifted  on 
four  grand  arches !  Such  were  the  hasty,  but  en- 
trancing glances,  or  our  recollection  of  them  now, 
as  the  scene  recurs  to  our  memory. 

In  this  my  wife  did  not  partake,  so  that  when, 
the  other  night,  we  approached  the  dark  rear  gate 
to  the  same  gallery  we  had  not  a  little  apprehension. 
It  was  soon  relieved  by  a  slippered  and  slippery 
Moslem,  bearing  a  lighted  taper,  and  under  Dio- 
nysian  guidance  we  reached  the  upper  gallery,  where 
the  old  time  came  back  with  its  rush  of  associations. 

It  is  Ramazan  again,  and  on  the  24th  day.  It 
is  the  night  of  Predestination,  the  night  for  special 
illumination  by  6,000  lamps.  Oh,  for  Edison,  Brush, 
and  Jablochkoff  with  their  electric  glories!  But 
the  Moslem  lamps  did  very  well  without  their  aid. 
Perhaps  the  semi-gloom  added  to  the  weird  scene. 
When  we  entered,  the  service  from  the  upper  and 
nether  platforms,  where  the  priests  sit  or  kneel,  was 
going  on.  The  responses  were  made  by  the  im- 
mense congregation,  formed  in  lines  upon  the  mat- 
ting, all  shoeless,  or  rather  with  shoes  upon  troughs 
of  wood  in  front  of  the  lines.  These  lines  front 
toward  the  holy  house  of  the  Kaaba  at  Mecca,  and 


94 


FROM  POLE    TO  P  YRAMID. 


therefore  the  faces  of  the  faithful  are  not  turned 
toward  the  old  Greek  altar,  but  to  the  south-east. 
This  looks  odd  and  breaks  the  harmony,  but  it  does 
not  change  the  lyrical  cadences  of  the  service,  as 
with  one  accord,  at  a  given  signal,  these  devout 
people,  in  various  costumes  and  of  various  tribes, 
but  in  unison,  bow  with  foreheads  to  the  floor 
thrice,  and  to  Mecca  always.  Then  a  Quaker  quiet 
comes — the  hush  as  if  for  the  Great  Day.  Then 
again,  resting  a  minute  thus,  another  chant  or  wail 
ascends  from  the  priestly  seats,  and  the  crowd  arises 
and  stands  in  silence  till  a  further  chant  rin^s 

o 

through  the  vast  arches  and  dome.  It  was  the 
very  quintescence  of  awfulness,  and  could  not  fail 
to  impress  the  oriental  soul.  It  was  not  for  us  to 
make  light  of  this  ceremony,  though  we  saw  some 
English  visitors  laughing  at  it  as  if  it  were  a  farce. 
A  second  visit,  along  with  the  families  of  our 
Minister  and  Consul,  whom  we  felt  qualified  to  in- 
duct into  this  gallery  and  ceremony,  did  not  weaken 
this  impression.  Nor  was  it  strengthened  on  our 
visit  yesterday  to  the  floor  and  body  of  the  temple. 
Without  aid  of  firman  or  soldier,  and  without  fear, 
we  found  ourselves  within  the  gates.  We  put  on 
slippers,  according  to  the  custom,  and  glided  awk- 
wardly over  the  matting,  to  see  the  altar,  the  lace- 
like  carved  marble  capitals,  the  many-colored  marble 
columns,  and  the  gilded  dome.  We  desired  a 
nearer  view.  Whether  because  my  slippers  were 
modeled  for  Cinderella  and  would  not  stay  on  my 
tiny  feet,  or  whether  because  my  sense  of  noting 
was  not  keen,  I  have  turned  to  my  wife's  journal. 
Here  is  her  description  : 

As  we  enter  the  vestibule  the  guide  calls  attention  to  a  side  column 
with  a  hole  in  it,  shaped  much  like  an  eye.     Here  those  diseased  in 


ANCIENT  CHURCHES  AND  COSTUMES. 


95 


that  organ  dip  their  fingers,  and,  rubbing  their  eyes,  with  a  murmured 
prayer,  are  supposed  to  find  a  cure.  Our  two  visits  have  been  made 
at  night.  Now,  by  day  the  mosque  looks  quite  differently.  Neat 
matting  covers  the  floor,  and  we  were  given  the  usual  slippers  for  en- 
trance. We  found  them  rather  large  and  difficult  to  use,  but  by  dint 
of  slipping  along,  without  lifting  the  foot  from  the  floor,  we  managed 
it.  S.  S.  happened  to  sneeze,  and,  as  one  does  often  by  habit,  expec- 
torated after  it,  and  immediately  our  Turk  was  enraged.  He  sharp- 
ly reproved  "the  infidel,"  and,  taking  his  handkerchief,  commenced 
vigorously  wiping  out  the  supposed  stain.  We  looked  at  our 
guide,  but  he  only  smiled  disdainfully  and  sadly.  It  was  a  Greek  smile 
which  a  Spartan  might  have  envied.  The  matting  was  not  laid  straight 
across,  but  on  the  slant,  that  the  devout  might,  in  kneeling,  turn 
toward  Mecca.  It  was  arranged  in  rows,  and  low  wooden  troughs 
were  placed  between  each  to  hold  the  shoes,  I  suppose — possibly 
outer  garments — thus  preserving  intact  the  neatness  of  the  floor. 
After  all,  were  it  not  for  this  sacred  reverence  in  taking  off  shoes  and 
using  slippers,  I  do  not  see  how  these  mosques  would  be  fit  for  en- 
trance, much  less  worship  and  prayer,  for  as  these  Turks  bring  in  on 
their  persons  such  a  filthy  lot  of  rags  it  would  be  unendurable.  Then, 
as  there  are  no  chairs  or  benches,  the  floors  are  used  for  sitting, 
kneeling,  and  bowing,  and  to  them  many  touch  their  foreheads. 

The  mosque  is  vast  and  airy  ;  the  marble  columns  of  Ephesus  are 
seen  to  better  advantage,  and  those  of  porphyry  are  immense  in 
diameter  and  height.  At  one-fourth  the  height  of  one  of  the  columns 
is  a  break,  like  the  cut  of  a  sabre,  were  it  of  a  material  that  a  sword 
could  cleave. 

"  This  is  its  history,"  says  our  guide  :  "  Mohammed  II.,  the  con- 
queror, rode  into  this  church  on  horseback  over  the  dead  bodies  of 
the  slain  Greeks,  packed  like  sardines  in  this  their  last  refuge  from 
the  victorious  Turk,  and  it  was  he  who  struck  this  column  with  his 
scimiter,  and  afterward  reaching  across  to  the  wall,  he  left  the  im- 
press of  his  blood-stained  hands." 

This  huge  and  bloody  hand,  with  fingers  wide  spread,  is  there  in 
outline;  but  it  looks  more  like  the  thoughtless  impress  of  the  bar- 
barous Turkish  artist,  on  his  undried  paint,  when,  in  his  unartistic 
vengeance,  he  tried  to  obliterate  all  signs  of  the  former  possessors, 
the  Greeks,  by  painting  out  every  Greek  cross  and  defacing  every  fig- 
ure of  the  Greek  archangels  !  But  the  mosaic  outlines  and  forms  of 
cross  and  angel  remain  beneath  the  Moslem's  superficial  paint  ;  and 
these  were  pointed  out  with  zealous  pride  by  our  Greek  guide  ! 

"  Do  you  see  those  cannon  over  the  door  entry  ?  "  the  guide  asks. 

"  Yes  ;  but  they  are  stone,  are  they  not  ?  " 

"  There  is  a  story  about  them,  quite  childish,  but  like  others  of 
this  strange  people.  It  is  this  :  That  there  was  a  saying  among  the 
Greeks  that  this  church  and  city  would  never  be  conquered  by  the 
Turks  till  these  cannon  of  brass  turned  to  stone  ;  and  see,  stone  they 
are  ! " 

The  faithful  are  assembling  for  prayers.  It  is  a  fete  day,  the  fifth 
anniversary  of  the  present  Sultan's  accession.  A  burly  Turk  asks  : 


g6  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

"  Why  do  you  linger  ?     We  are  going  to  prayers." 
Our  guide  answers  :  "  We  have  paid  for  the  entrance,  and  do  not 
intend  to  be  hurried." 

Three  seven-year-old  children,  having  long  skirts  on — we  know 
not  if  they  are  hoys  or  girls — are  playing  horse  in  a  lively  manner, 
and  in  imitation  of  Mohammed  II.,  the  Conqueror,  who  rode  into 
this  church.  They  ran  at  large  over  the  mosque,  to  our  astonish- 
ment; but  they  are  soon  called  to  order,  and  fall  upon  their  knees  and 
begin  their  devotions  a  la  Turk.  Last  week  we  observed  the  same 
performance  of  five  small  children  playing  "  ring-around,"  but  be- 
tween times  keeping  up  a  faint  semblance  of  prayer  by  tumbling 
over  each  other,  helter-skelter,  upon  their  knees  in  proper  though 
temporary  devotional  attitude.  It  would  seem  that  chiHren  are  a 
law  unto  themselves  in  a  Mohanimedan  mosque  !  At  times,  with  the 
recitative  of  the  priest  and  the  responses,  the  service  was  very  im- 
pressive ;  and  by  night,  in  the  dim  light,  it  is  a  weird  and  striking 
scene. 

Thus  endeth  the  journal  and  our  united  impres- 
sions of  this  wonderful  building  and  the  spirit  which 
it  enshrines.  It  is  an  immense  minster  and  mosque, 
for  it  is  both,  even  yet.  We  leave  it  and  go  into 
the  warmer  air,  haunted,  as  we  were  years  ago,  by 
those  six-winged  monsters,  who  seem  like  Sphinxes 
in  the  desert  of  human  doubt  and  experience,  and 
horrified  at  the  stories  of  carnage  forever  connected 
with  this  temple  of  peace,  into  which  the  proud 
Moslem  rode  to  defy  and  degrade  its  old  Christian 
masters. 

Dionysius,  who  is  not  very  gossipy,  makes  a 
curious  comment  on  this  double  relation  and  qual- 
ity, by  a  story  of  some  Russian  ladies  whom  he 
gallanted  a  few  weeks  before  the  late  Russian  war. 
One  of  the  ladies  caught  sight  of  her  own  cross 
half  hidden  by  the  Moslem  gilding.  Her  eye 
pierced  beneath  the  lacquer  to  find  the  forms  of 
angel,  saint,  and  Saviour,  familiar  to  the  church  of 
her  childhood.  Bursting  into  tears,  she  was  about 
to  drop  upon  her  knees  and  pray  to  the  God — not 
of  Mohammed,  but  of  Jesus — when  arrested  by  a 


ANCIENT  CHURCHES  AND  COSTUMES.  97 

gesture  from  the  frightened  guide,  who  turned 
pale  at  the  consequences,  in  the  then  state  of  the 
Turkish  mind. 

"Is  this  not,"  she  cried,  "our  church,  ours? 
Oh  !  my  God,  ours  ?  " 

In  a  frenzy  she  was  led  from  the  church  of  the 
fathers  of  her  religion. 

Do  you  wonder  that  the  Czars,  who  are  the  head 
of  her  religion,  have  yearned  to  take  this  city, 
where  the  traditions,  history,  and  glories  of  their 
faith  still  repose,  though  suppressed  by  force  and 
veiled  by  another  faith  ? 

Another  mosque,  that  of  Sulieman  the  Magnifi- 
cent, which  we  visited,  had  no  Greek  glamour  or 
tradition.  It  was  built  by  the  Turks.  It  has 
a  beauty,  cleanliness,  and  freshness  that  reminds 
us  of  St.  Isaac's  in  St.  Petersburg.  But  having 
seen  one  mosque,  you  have  an  idea  of  all.  In  this 
mosque  are  carpets  and  flags,  representing  Mecca 
and  Medina. 

There  is  a  third  mosque,  called  that  of  the  Pig- 
eons, into  whose  court  we  went.  A  few  piastres 
for  a  handful  of  millet,  and  the  pigeons  fly  down 
into  the  court  in  rustling  multitudes  from  minaret 
and  dome  and  every  nook  in  the  vast  place.  These 
birds  are  sacred  to  Mohammed,  and  receive  hospi- 
tality, as  do  the  dogs,  according  to  some  divine 
lesson  in  the  Koran. 

On  our  way  to  the  Hippodrome  we  pass  another 
large  plane  or  sycamore  tree,  hollow  and  tenanted. 
A  hermit,  with  sore  eyes,  lives  in  it,  but  he  is  not 
very  astute.  I  asked  him  to  write  me  his  name  on 
a  card.  He  put  his  head  out  of  his  hole,  and,  to 
my  discomfort,  bawled  for  one  of  the  cross-legged 
scribes,  who,  as  in  old  Jerusalem,  sit  at  the  corners 


98  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

of  the  streets,  and  act  as  notary  publics  or  scrive- 
ners for  the  people. 

We  are  upon  classic  ground  again  at  the  famous 
Hippodrome.  It  was  an  old  Greek  circus,  with 
seats  and  ring.  It  is  .now  a  square,  filled  with 
objects  of  ancient  renown,  which  could  not  well  be 
ruined  by  janizary  and  war,  or  eaten  by  fire  and 
time.  Here  the  actors,  riders,  and  charioteers  of 
the  imperial  days  assembled.  The  gates  are  gone, 
the  porticoes  demolished,  the  columns  dust.  The 
Veneti,  who  were  Greek  praetorians,  like  the  janiza- 
ries of  the  Turkish  empire,  here  met  and  menaced 
the  existence  of  society  and  order.  From  these 
factions  and  crimes  came  the  final  ruin  of  this 
Greek  empire.  Its  obelisk  remains,  as  fresh  as 
when  it  came  from  Heliopolis.  The  machines  by 
which  it  was  reared  are  cut  in  stone  upon  its  pedi- 
ment. Commander  Gorringe  has  improved  upon 
the  plan,  with  which,  doubtless,  he  became  familiar. 
It  was  erected  as  the  goal  of  the  races  of  the  Hip- 
podrome. The  brass  column  of  the  three  serpents, 
heads  off,  is  greened  by  exposure.  It  has  a  mys- 
tical and  sacred  meaning  and  inscription,  which 
Rawlinson  in  his  Herodotus  has  explained.  The 
burnt  column  is  a  singular  wreck  of  upright  mat- 
ter, and  yet  it  stands  one  hundred  feet  high,  surviv- 
ing fire  and  sword,  priest  and  conqueror.  The  em- 
peror or  god,  whose  effigy  once  adorned  its  top,  is 
not  known.  Other  columns  are  around,  and  marked 
by  inscriptions  in  old  Greek  and  Latin,  which  mar- 
velously  survive  much  that  had  more  seeming 
durability.  One  antiquity  has  been  so  buried  that 
time  could  not  touch  it  with  a  single  tooth.  It  is 
the  cistern  of  Constantine.  It  is  under-ground. 
It  had  three  under-ground  compartments,  held  up 


ANCIENT  CHURCHES  AND    COSTUMES. 


99 


"by  1,000  pillars.  The  upper  story  remains.  Into 
it  we  went.  It  has  been  filled  with  the  rubbish  of 
ages.  It  is  a  gloomy  place,  dimly  lighted,  and 
used  by  artisans.  We  found  their  wheels  whizzing 
in  the  damp  and  murky  air,  and  boys  running 
about  the  pillars  as  if  at  play,  reeling  up  the  silken 
and  golden  thread  so  much  used  in  the  fabrics  of 
the  Orient. 

"Why  not,"  we  asked  of  the  foreman,  "use 
machines  ?" 

He  caught  at  it  at  once.  "  Your  English  and 
American  machines  are  too  expensive.  They  get 
out  of  repair.  We  cannot  make  by  them,  as  we 
cannot  repair  them.  We  prefer  the  old  method. 
It  costs  little  for  our  labor." 

It  is  the  old  story  of  labor-saving  machines, 
which  have  changed  the  employment  of  four-fifths 
of  the  world,  and  always  under  protest. 

Then  we  visited  a  strange  exhibition.  It  is  the 
Museum  of  Ancient  Costumes.  As  we  went  into  the 
alley  where  it  is,  one  thousand  young  Turks  were 
rushing  out  of  the  Polytechnic  School,  where  they 
are  taught  all  the  manual  trades,  such  as  car- 
penter, blacksmith,  and  others.  Threading  our  way 
through  their  noisy  unstinted  glee — for  boys  are 
boys,  whether  under  fez  or  hat — we  enter  a  wax- 
work exhibition  which  Mme.  Tussaud  might  envy. 
It  represents  the  old  Turks  of  different  trades  and 
professions,  white  and  black  eunuchs,  as  well  as  the 
other  officers  of  the  old  regime,  when  the  janizary 
was  paramount,  and  the  Sultan  had  his  cook  and 
dwarf,  headsman  and  vizier,  surgeon  and  eunuch, 
and  each  had  a  habit  as  well  as  habitude  peculiarily 
his  own.  Such  turbans  and  garments  ;  such  an 
arsenal  of  yataghans  and  pistols,  and  such  bundles 


100 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


of  sash  and  other  tawdry  toggery  never  was  gotten 
together  in  a  French  opera  bouffe  to  burlesque 
human  power  and  weakness,  or  make  extravagant 
its  excesses  and  vanities. 

Near  our  hotel  are  the  dancing  dervishes.  I  sup- 
pose there  are  ample  descriptions  of  these  der- 
vishes and  their  mummeries,  but  I  have  not  read 
them.  I  give  what  I  saw.  The  dancing  sect  whirl 
around  gently  on  their  toes.  Their  arms  are  ex- 
tended and  eyes  sleepy  or  dreamy.  They  keep  their 
places,  like  stars  in  their  orbits,  as  they  move 
around,  while  a  solemn  brother,  with  arms  folded 
and  in  prayer,  moves  between  the  revolving  orbs  ! 
Their  robes  fly  out  as  though  they  would  make  a 
cheese,  as  the  children  used  to  say.  They  have  a 
sweet  chant.  Their  closed  eyes  and  whirl  indi- 
cate that  they  see  the  invisible  Allah  wherever 
they  turn ! 

These  do  not  howl.  For  that  we  went  to  Scu- 
tari. There  is  a  convent  of  them  there.  We 
passed  behind  the  curtain  and  went  up  into  the 
gallery,  looking  down  into  a  court.  There  was 
an  altar  and  a  group  of  variously  dressed  der- 
vishes. Some  were  soldiers,  some  boys,  some 
little  girls  in  tinseled  dresses.  Some  were  black 
as  ebony,  some  tall,  some  small,  some  thin,  some 
handsome,  some  hideous,  and  all  joined  in  the 
prayers  and  chants.  A  few  kneeled  on  sheepskin, 
while  others  formed  a  hollow  square  and  began 
swaying  and  singing,  while  the  turn-turn  of  the  tam- 
bourine and  clash  of  cymbals  gave  out  the  pleasing 
concord  of  a  threshing-machine.  When  the  agony 
was  sufficient,  and  the  steam  was  on  with  a  full 
head,  the  swaying  and  howling  and  barking  and 
snapping  and  jerking  of  head  and  body,  and  the 


ANCIENT  CHURCHES  AND    COSTUMES. 


101 


frothing-  and  hard  breathing-  and  general  diabolism 

o  o     B    ^         <-> 

began.  The  song  was  repetitious,  and  not  unmu- 
sical at  intervals,  where  a  flutelike  melody,  instru- 
mental, came  in  as  a  prelude  to  additional  howling. 
We  stood  this  for  an  hour. 

One  man,  of  excellent  appearance,  with  long, 
glossy  auburn  hair  and  a  rich  voice,  as  it  sounded 
out  "Allah  ! "  and  "  Mahmoud  !  "  seemed  to  be 
the  chief,  and  ruled  them  with  a  look.  He  gave  a 
glance,  and  off  would  go  a  coat,  or  a  turban,  or 
their  high,  white,  sugar-loaf  hat,  and  on  would  go 
a  white  nightcap.  One  African,  of  the  worst  aspect 
ever  seen  on  a  human  face,  if,  indeed,  it  was  not  a 
visor  hiding  the  human  face,  seemed  to  be  as  lithe 
and  loathsome  as  a  snake.  He  was  six  feet  and 
more,  and  in  his  bare  feet.  His  tongue  would  loll 
out,  and  his  body  would  contort  till  you  could  hardly 
see  what  form  it  had.  The  negro  minstrels,  when 
they  mimic  the  excesses  of  the  negroes  South  at 
their  revivals,  are  but  faint  copies  of  the  wildness 
of  this  Nubian  beast,  as  he  twisted,  snapped,  clucked, 
barked,  and  howled. 

We  went  out  for  fresh  air,  to  return  to  see  this 
strangest  of  ceremonies.  The  chief  and  some  of 
his  subordinates  were  sitting  cross-legged  and 
making  sacred  knots  in  white  napkins  when  we  re- 
entered.  Then  prone  on  their  faces  were  arranged 
a  dozen  of  children,  from  two  months  old  up  to 
twelve ;  and  this  dervish  walked  over  and  on  their 
bodies.  Yes,  on  them,  each  and  all.  I  would  not 
have  believed  it,  had  I  not  seen  it.  Not  once,  but 
four  times,  these  prostrate  lines  of  children  were 
formed,  and  he  trod  on  them  each  and  all.  Where- 
upon they  arose  sanctified  and  cleared  of  disease ; 
for  that  is  the  theory.  In  came  a  soldier  and  lay 


I02  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

flat.  He  had  the  rheumatism.  Along  with  him 
a  line  was  formed;  some  of  the  same  little  ones 
going  flat  again.  Over  the  lot  the  chief  traveled. 
The  soldier  got  up  and  kissed  the  dervish's  hand. 
The  dervish  placed  his  foot  on  the  upper  part 
of  the  thigh,  behind.  Any  surgeon  may  tell  you 
whether  this  is  a  vulnerable  spot.  Not  a  child 
whimpered,  not  a  soul  smiled.  I  could  neither 
enjoy  nor  cease  to  wonder. 

What  is  the  solution  of  this  seeming  physical 
paradox  ?  That  question  I  asked  of  a  gentleman 
learned  in  the  customs  here.  He  said  :  "  Did  you 
observe  two  priests  in  loose  robes  on  each  side  of 
the  line,  holding  the  chief's  arms  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  I  did  not  see  that  they  could  have  car- 
ried him  safely  over,  allowing  only  a  slight  touch 
to  the  children  with  the  priestly  foot." 

"  That,"  said  he,  "  is  my  solution,  and  the  only 
one  I  have.  Two  strong  men  might  do  it  after 
much  practice." 

From  this  puzzling  and  unique  ceremony  we 
rough  it  over  some  hard  roads  to  the  top  of  the 
cemetery  in  Scutari,  saw  the  famed  grave  which  the 
Sultan  built  over  the  horse  which  fell  dead  when 
the  captain  rode  him  to  that  spot  with  the  news  of 
the  fall  of  Constantinople ;  and  then,  turning  down 
many  lanes  and  streets  over  Asiatic  ground,  we 
entered  the  English  cemetery.  It  is  a  beautiful 
spot,  and  well  cared  for.  It  is  in  great  contrast 
with  the  Turkish  and  other  graveyards  hereabouts. 
A  magnificent  granite  column,  supported  by  colos- 
sal figures,  rises  here  to  the  memory  of  the  Crimean 
soldiers.  It  overlooks  the  city  and  the  sea,  the 
Bosphorus  and  the  Seraglio  Point.  In  vain  my 
wife  sought  in  this  sacred  spot  for  the  grave  of  her 


ANCIENT  CHURCHES  AND   COSTUMES.  IC>3 

old  friend,  Mrs.  Edward  Joy  Morris,  who  died  here 
while  her  accomplished  husband  was  minister. 
We  left  with  many  sad  memories,  which  were 
soon  obliterated  by  the  cheerful  breeze  upon  the 
waters,  and  after  a  day  of  days  found  our  rest  at 
Pera. 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE  CHANGES  IN  THE  TURKISH  CAPITAL  WITHIN  THIRTY 
YEARS— DYNASTY  AND  DYNAMITE— THE  TOMBS  OF  THE 
SULTANS. 

With  my  own  power,  my  majesty  they  wound, 

Jn  the  Kings  name,  the  King  himself 's  uncrowned, 

So  doth  the  dust  destroy  the  diamond. 

'  — MAJESTY  IN  MISERY,  CHARLES  I. 

WE  find  but  few  changes  here,  such  as  we  find 
in  other  cities  of  Europe.  The  Asiatic 
still  encamps  upon  both  sides  of  the  Bosphorus. 
Even  the  tombs  of  the  Sultans  are,  notwithstanding 
the  Koran,  which  intimates  that  Europe  is  no  last- 
ing home  for  the  faithful,  here  upon  this  side  of 
the  river.  Hotels,  kiosks,  terraces,  palaces,  villas, 
embassies,  and  conveyances  have  changed.  Iron 
ferries  fly  the  red  flag  with  its  crescent  and  star  up 
and  down  the  stream  ;  large  ironclads  anchor  near 
the  home  of  departed  houris  ;  but  the  same  gilded 
kiosk  and  gaudy  ca'ique,  the  same  veiled  women, 
miserable  cemeteries,  and  melancholy  mosques ; 
the  same  fountains,  bazaars,  and  barracks  remain, 
with  the  same  dirt,  dogs,  and  dervishes.  Photo- 
graphs appear  in  Pera  at  the  shops,  and  French  is 
more  universally  spoken.  The  ladies  have  more 
diaphanous  veils,  and  the  men  less  ostentatious 
turbans  ;  but  the  old  element  remains,  notwith- 
standing the  Crimean  war.  The  slave  behind  her 
dark  veil,  hiding  every  feature,  still  trudges  behind 

104 


CHANGES  IN    THE    TURKISH  CAPITAL.  IO5 

her  mistress.  The  mistress  has  exchanged  her 
yellow,  gawky  slippers  for  high-heeled  and  gorgeous 
gaiters.  The  minaret  tops  all,  and  the  mosques, 
with  their  mortgages  upon  property  and  soul,  have 
not  be  encanceled.  The  age  of  archery  and  Greek 
fire,  which  foiled  the  Bulgarian,  Goth,  and  Persian 
in  their  attempts  upon  the  now  dismantled  walls, 
gave  way  to  an  age  of  personal  chivalry  in  the 
crusaders'  day  and  in  the  age  of  Mohammedan 
empire  ;  and  that  empire  is  giving  way,  inch  by 
inch,  it  may  be,  to  the  spirit  which  commerce  "  calls 
from  its  vasty  deep."  What  a  wonderful  city  ! 
What  changes  in  two  thousand  years,  if  not  in  a 
third  of  a  century  !  As  I  reckon  them  by  history, 
and  not  by  my  own  experiences,  there  have  been 
six  changes  of  masters,  and  twenty  from  unsuc- 
cessful sieges.  Rome  had  the  city.  After  cen- 
turies she  made  it  the  capital  of  the  East.  Then 
its  emperors  besieged  it,  and  then  the  Persians  and 
the  Arabs  again  and  again  ;  then  the  Russians  four 
times  ;  then  the  Latin  crusaders,  who  temporarily 
succeeded,  and  the  Counts  of  Flanders  furnished 
the  emperors  under  Venetian  patronage  and  enter- 
prise ;  and  finally,  when  the  western  nations  were 
preparing  for  adventure  in  a  new  world,  and  the 
Moors  were  fighting  to  hold  Spain,  Mohammed  II. 
swooped  down  upon  the  city,  and  by  the  aid  of  the 
towers  of  Asia  and  Europe  gave  to  it  a  new  faith. 

Since  his  day,  from  1481  to  1882,  twenty-eight  Sul- 
tans have  held  their  revels  and  their  rule  ;  exactly 
four  hundred  years,  at  the  rate  of  seven  Sultans  per 
century,  or  an  average  of  a  little  over  fourteen  and 
two-sevenths  of  a  year  per  Sultan.  If  the  present 
Sultan,  Abdul  Hamid  II.,  holds  on  a  few  years 
more,  the  average  since  the  conquest  will  be  made 


lo6  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

good  since  the  accession  of  the  Sultan  of  1851, 
Abdul  Mejid. 

Studying  the  mortality  of  these  rulers,  and  in 
the  light  of  recent  dynastic  dangers  from  dynamite 
and  daggers  on  the  Neva  and  Bosphorus,  led  me  to 
think  of  the  present  Sultan  and  the  situation.  As 
I  write,  the  guns  of  the  forts  are  thundering  out 
the  fifth  anniversary  of  his  reign.  It  is  well  known 
how  he  obtained  power.  There  is  a  party  of  pro- 
gressists who  do  not  look  kindly  on  him.  He 
is  supposed  to  belong  to  the  party  which  disfavors 
advancement.  My  judgment  is  that  he  is  more 
opposed  to  the  aggressions  upon  his  rights  and 
dignities  by  western  powers  than  to  reform.  He 
may  yet  lead  a  Jehad  to  save  his  empire. 

He  lives  in  great  seclusion  in  his  yellow  palace, 
somewhat  aloof  and  apart,  on  the  hills  of  the  Eu- 
ropean side  of  the  Bosphorus.  He  comes  forth 
but  rarely  and  cautiously,  as  Czars  do  nowadays. 
He  is  bound  to  go  to  certain  mosques  on  certain 
days,  and  on  Fridays  always. 

We  saw  him  the  other  day  at  the  mosque  below 
the  palace ;  but  we  waited  for  him  in  a  miscella- 
neous and  unenthusiastic  crowd  for  two  hours. 
The  soldiery  were  there  on  guard.  They  sur- 
rounded the  entrance  and  lined  the  streets  between 
the  high  walls.  The  people  were  not  near.  Bands 
came  and  played  music  ;  officers  of  state  arrived 
and  were  ushered  through  the  ranks.  At  length 
there  was  a  blast  of  trumpets — a  good  deal  like  a 
circus  summons  for  the  grand  cavalcade.  The 
gates  of  the  palace  opened  !  We  peeped  into  the 
secret  and  beauteous  grounds.  Lo  !  led  by  serv- 
ants in  gala  attire,  some  riderless  horses  appeared. 
It  is  a  custom  which  follows  the  Sultan.  Then 


CHANGES  IN   THE    TURKISH  CAPITAL. 


107 


came  a  man  in  a  plain  fez  and  on  a  white  horse. 
It  was  the  Sultan  !  He  seemed  sallow  ;  but  he 
is  not  ill-looking.  He  is  like  all  Turks,  for  they 
all  look  alike.  The  hush  of  expectancy  was  over. 
A  rush  and  a  crush  was  made  after  him  as  he  dis- 
mounted and  entered  the  mosque.  A  shrill  cry 
went  up  from  the  priests,  which  reminded  the  Sul- 
tan that  he  also  is  mortal  and  God  is  great.  The 
crowd  dispersed,  and  the  Sultan  stayed  and  prayed. 

He  is  in  perpetual  prayer,  or  is  expected  to  be, 
in  these  fasting  days  of  Ramazan  and  festive  days 
of  Bairam.  At  the  close  of  the  former  he  was  mar- 
ried—again. It  was  his  annual  marriage  at  a 
mosque.  It  was  public  in  one  sense,  but  "  no 
cards  "  to  us.  Every  year  the  Turkish  empire  is 
winnowed  for  the  handsomest  young  lady  to  adorn 
the  palace  as  a  new  wife.  The  mother  of  the  Sultan 
selects  from  the  bevy  of  beauties  gathered  from 
"silken  Samarcand  to  cedared  Lebanon."  One  of 
the  singular  laws  of  royal  marriage  here  is,  that  the 
wife  becomes  the  slave,  when  married,  to  his  Majesty. 
Why  ?  Because  the  Crown  Prince,  or  future  Sultan, 
must  be  a  born  slave  himself,  and  thus  less  in  rank 
than  the  free  people  of  the  realm  he  governs  !  This 
is  odd,  but  it  is  oriental. 

Again,  this  week  the  Sultan  appeared  in  Scutari, 
where  he  met  all  the  military  pashas,  beys,  and 
Ulemas,  riding  on  white  horses  and  wearing  rib- 
boned turbans.  The  latter  are  the  priestly  inter- 
preters of  the  Law  and  the  Prophet.  They  display 
great  pomp  in  the  procession  when  the  Sultan  en- 
ters the  Church  of  the  Six  Minarets. 

The  present  Sultan  is  not  a  large  man.  He  is 
regarded  as  able,  and  manages  his  own  matters 
with  adroitness.  When  Abdul  Aziz  was  deposed 


I0g  FROM  POLE   TO  PYRAMID. 

in  1876,  Murad  V.  succeeded  to  the  throne.  He 
also  was  deposed  after  only  two  months'  rule, 
because  of  an  alleged  weak  intellect,  thus  making 
two  weaklings  who  have  given  way  under  minis- 
terial or  priestly  dictation.  There  is  much  un- 
rest among  the  Turks  because  of  these  untoward 
and  suspicious  changes,  which  has  been  promoted 
by  the  recent  extraordinary  trial  and  exile  of 
Midhat  Pasha  for  the  alleged  assassination  of  Aziz. 
Therefore,  we  were  not  a  little  curious  to  see  the 
present  Sultan,  who  seems  to  master  the  situation, 
which  is  surrounded  by  so  much  doubt  and  danger. 
We  had  once  seen  the  Sultan  Abdul  Mejid,  amid 
40,000  troops,  on  a  grand  day  for  the  reception  of 
the  chief  of  the  Mohammedan  religion  from  Mecca. 
No  special  guard  was  needed  then.  But  dynamite 
and  assassination  have  made  necessary  these  pre- 
cautions. When  the  anniversary  of  his  coronation 
came  the  other  day,  it  was  said  that  the  Sultan  be- 
came nervous  and  uncertain.  First,  he  was  to  give 
a  grand  dinner  at  his  palatial  seat,  at  which  he  him- 
self was  to  preside — a  rare  concession  and  ceremony. 
He  was  to  show  himself  very  happy  generally.  The 
dinner  was  to  be  given  to  the  ambassadors  and 
chief  men.  It  was  discarded,  however,  on  the  plea 
of  poverty.  After  spending  several  thousand 
pounds,  it  was  ascertained  that  it  would  be  in- 
delicate to  have  a  roystering  jamboree  when  the 
pay  of  all  the  soldiers  and  officers  was  so  far  in 
arrear — a  year  or  more.  Making  a  virtue  of  this 
fact,  the  Sultan  postponed  his  feast.  A  week  or  so 
ago,  some  Italian  subjects  of  sinister  motions  and 
conduct  were  arrested  for  conspiracy  to  kill  the 
Sultan.  Their  explanation  was  that  their  dynamite 
explosives  were  only  intended  for  killing  fish  in  the 


CHANGES  IN  THE    TURKISH  CAPITAL. 


109 


Sea  of  Marmora.  But  something  still  less  serious 
made  a  greater  outcry.  The  custom-house  offi- 
cials stopped  some  balls  having  in  them  explosive 
materials.  They  consisted  of  four  globes  and  three 
ivory  pipes.  The  globes  were  sent  to  experts.  The 
Master  of  Artillery,  Ali  Saib,  was  at  the  head  of  a 
commission  to  report.  Chemists  were  called  in.  i 
Three  little  suspicious  perforations  in  the  upper 
hemisphere  of  the  ball  were  found,  and  found  cov- 
ered, but  the  cover  was  removed  by  a  key !  Sodium 
was  found  in  them.  It  burns  vividly  when  thrown 
in  water.  The  commission  decided  that  the  balls 
were  pyrotechnics,  and  so  they  were,  but  useful 
ones.  They  were  intended  to  be  thrown  into  the 
water  in  case  of  a  person  overboard  at  night,  when 
the  illumination  would  help  to  save.  An  instru- 
ment for  life-saving  was  thus  the  means  of  affright. 
The  consignees  are  out  in  a  card  in  French,  which 
I  have  just  seen,  saying:  "  It  is  not  our  fault  if  the 
employes  intelligents  de  la  douane  cannot  distinguish 
between  salvation  and  destruction  ! " 

I  am  half  inclined  to  wonder  whether  some 
ghost  of  the  dead  past  has  not  reappeared  upon  or 
within  these  walls,  with  the  ancient  Greek  fire,  at 
which  the  timid  besiegers  of  Constantinople  were 
wont  to  be  baffled  and  astounded.  In  an  old 
record  of  one  of  the  sieges  of  this  city,  which 
lasted  seven  years,  it  is  said  that  the  Engineer  Cal- 
linicus  of  Baalbec,  a  city  of  Syria,  discovered  the 
famous  Greek  fire,  which  being  composed  of  sev- 
eral combustible  substances,  such  as  naphtha,  sul- 
phur, nitre,  and  turpentine,  had  the  property 
of  burning  under  water.  Its  flame,  instead  of  ris- 
ing upward,  presented  the  opposite  phenomenon, 
and  its  heat  was  so  intense  as  to  destroy  stones 


no 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


and  iron.  It  could  not  be  extinguished  except 
with  vinegar,  sand,  and  urine.  When  they  threw 
it  on  a  vessel  or  a  building,  these  were  consumed 
with  a  terrifying  noise.  Some  pretend  that  the 
secret  of  this  fire  was  discovered  in  i  756,  but  that 
it  was  suppressed  through  the  wisdom  of  a  philan- 
thropic monarch  ! 

Whatever  the  new  discovery  was,  it  doubtless 
led  to  the  postponement  of  the  Sultan's  fes- 
tivity. Still,  the  Bosphorus  shores  burned  with 
innocent  lamps,  lit  in  crescents  and  stars  by  loyal 
subjects,  and  the  embassies  and  pashas  had  their 
palaces  similarly  beautified.  The  shop  opposite 
our  hotel  was  illuminated — just  as  in  London  on 
the  Queen's  birthday  the  humble  proteges  of  roy- 
alty make  the  largest  displays.  It  was  that  of  the 
Tailor  to  the  Sultan. 

It  is  not  for  me,  after  slight  observation  here,  to 
make  prognostics  as  to  this  government.  It  has 
survived  so  many  left-handed  omens  that  prophecy 
ought  to  be  dumb.  There  is,  notwithstanding  the 
bad  feeling  as  to  Midhat  Pasha,  a  feeling  also  of 
insecurity.  Since  the  exile  of  Midhat  there  is  said 
to  be  much  suppressed  indignation  ready  to  flame. 
However,  so  far  as  it  seems  to  me,  the  old  order 
of  thirty  years  ago,  such  as  then  I  saw  it,  remains. 
There  is  no  great  or  open  violence,  and  certainly 
no  drunkenness,  visible  in  the  city.  Outside  there 
is  not  so  much  certainty  of  protection  and  life. 
One  of  our  friends,  a  Swede — Mr.  Roos,  a  con- 
tractor— whom  we  meet  at  the  Legation,  has, 
within  a  fortnight,  been  attacked  with  knives  by 
robbers  outside  of  Therapia,  on  the  hills  beyond 
the  Bosphorus,  and  again  shot  at,  the  ball  going 
through  his  hat.  A  man  was  killed  night  before 


CHANGES  IN    THE    TURKISH  CAPITAL.  1IX 

last,  near  our  Legation,  and  there  is  not  much  or 
any  sure  punishment  for  the  crime  of  murder. 
Considering  the  mixed  quality  of  the  population, 
these  incidents  are  not  more  remarkable,  perhaps, 
than  similar  ones  in  or  near  New  York  ;  and  when 
we  think  of  the  masses  of  contrary-minded  men  of 
different  races  and  religions,  and  of  the  Ramazan, 
when  every  Turk  is  cross,  because  hungry,  the 
wonder  is  that  nothing  worse  has  happened.  The 
wonder  is  that  strangers,  like  ourselves,  could 
pass,  as  we  did,  at  night  with  a  carriage,  through 
the  narrow  and  packed  streets  without  a  murmur 
of  hindrance  or  trouble.  No  soldiers  or  police 
were  visible  when  we  made  two  of  these  ventures 
through  the  motley  groups  in  Stamboul,  on  our 
way  from  the  Mosque  of  St.  Sophia. 

In  all  these  changes  of  city  and  dynasty,  there  is 
not,  to  our  knowledge,  one  person  whom  we  knew 
here  thirty  years  ago  now  living  here.  This  was 
my  own  private  reflection,  ft  had  one  exception, 
as  I  soon  learned,  and  the  incident  which  led  to  the 
knowledge  of  it  is  interesting  enough  to  relate.  I 
know  that  it  is  of  more  general  importance  to  re- 
count matters  of  public  concern  ;  but,  after  all, 
there  is  much  truth  in  what  "  Eothen  "  says  in  his 
book,  as  to  the  interest  which  makes  egotism  the 
nucleus  of  travel  and  observation. 

Observing  this  law  of  perspective,  and  recog- 
nizing myself  as  the  centre  of  this  interesting  and 
restless  capital,  and  reserving  all  statistics  and  his- 
tory as  the  mere  circumstances  about  my  own  per- 
sonality, I  will  give  my  revisit  to  the  tomb  of 
Mahmoud  II.  He  was  the  father  of  Mejid  and 
Aziz,  and  is  celebrated  for  his  extermination  of 
the  janizaries. 


II2  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

These  turbchs,  as  the  imperial  tombs  are  called, 
are  generally  in  or  around  the  mosques.  Some 
of  the  Sultans  have  a  mausoleum  of  their  own, 
where  the  body  is  coffined  in  the  ground  ;  and  in 
the  sacred  kiosk  of  rarest  architecture  above,  is  the 
tomb.  It  is  generally  covered  with  inscribed  mar- 
ble slabs,  or  invested  with  rich  vestments. 

I  believe  that  after  thirty  years  I  could  have 
gone  alone  to  the  tomb  of  Mahmoud  II.  Fifteen 
years  after  our  visit  to  it,  I  had  occasion  to  recall  this 
splendid  architectural  tribute  to  the  dead  Sultan. 
When  Mount  Vernon  was  rescued  from  decay  in 
1857,  by  the  women  of  America,  many  of  the  Con- 
gressmen were  invited  to  visit  the  sacred  spot 
and  celebrate  the  event.  On  our  return,  upon 
the  Potomac,  after  night,  a  splendid  moon,  in  cres- 
cent, came  forth  to  gladden  and  gild  our  passage 
to  Washington.  The  Hon.  John  Cochrane,  my 
predecessor  from  New  York  City,  improvised  some 
speaking  on  the  boat  ;  and  out  of  my  treasury  of 
traveled  experience  came  the  memory  of  the  cir- 
cular and  domed  splendor,  by  the  side  of  the  burnt 
column  at  old  Stamboul !  Its  white  marble, 
its  Corinthian  pilasters,  its  gilded  gratings,  its 
mother-of-pearl  biers  laden  with  gold-embroidered 
velvet  and  cashmere  shawls ;  the  massive  silver 
candlesticks  and  the  tall  candles  holding  the  em- 
blematic extinguishers  of  the  light  of  life — all 
came  to  me  then  and  there,  to  furnish  a  little  rhet- 
oric, and  to  point  the  moral  as  to  our  shameful  neg- 
lect of  the  tombs  of  our  great  men  !  The  moral 
has  not  yet  lost  its  point. 

When,  therefore,  we  returned  after  thirty  years  to 
this  tomb  of  the  great  Ottoman,  not  as  a  pilgrim 
gray  like  Honor  in  Collins'  ode,  nor  as  a  weeping 


CHANGES  IN   THE    TURKISH   CAPITAL.  n3 

hermit  like  another  abstraction,  but  as  a  real  en- 
tity, did  we  find  that  time  had  effaced  its  beauty 
or  relaxed  the  vigilance  of  its  keepers  ?  Had  the 
velvets  and  shawls  become  the  prey  of  the  moth  ? 
Had  rapine  seized  the  diamond  aigrette  and  plume 
upon  the  sultanic  fez  at  the  head  of  the  tomb  ? 
Were  the  mother-of-pearl  railings  gone,  the  mass- 
ive silver  stolen,  or  the  manuscript  Koran  burned  ? 
Let  us  take  off  our  shoes,  and  with  unsandaled 
feet  enter.  Ah  !  here  still  remain  all  these  suits 
and  trappings  of  external  reverence.  To  them  is 
added  the  tomb  of  Abdul  Aziz,  the  son,  and  with 
it  the  massive  silver  candlestick  and  box  holding 
another  Koran,  the  gift  of  the  mother,  who 
melted  down  her  own  plate  for  the  offering.  The 
same  beautiful  illuminated  Arabic  Koran  on  the 
same  stand  was  there  by  the  great  Sultan's  tomb  ; 
and  a  boy  is  reading  a  Turkish  edition  near  by, 
swaying  as  he  reads,  and  smiling  kindly  on  us  as 
he  sways.  There  seems  to  be  no  harsh  or  un- 
friendly feeling  here.  The  warder  of  the  tomb  is 
a  man  whom  I  seem  to  have  known.  I  ask  him  : 

"  Will  you  read  me  a  passage  of  the  Koran  ? 
Open  it  at  a  venture." 

He  opens  it.  He  says  :  "  I  can  read,  but  do 
not  know  what  it  means.  It  is  Arabic.  The  letters 
are  familiar,  but  I  cannot  translate." 

"  Well,  then,  I  request  you  to  read  from  the  wall 
— the  motto  in  gold." 

He  reads,  and  Dionysius,  our  guide,  interprets  : 
"Allah  is  the  light  of  the  world  ! " 

I  say  to  him  :  "This  is  not  the  thought  of  Mo- 
hammed alone.  It  is  ours,  as  well  as  yours.  In 
that  all-seeing  orb  there  gleams  the  light  of  the 
world  for  all  His  creatures.  It  shines  on  us,  in  a 


II4  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

distant  land,  a  far-beaming  blaze  of  majesty!  It 
brings  me  here  from  a  land  where  there  is  a  setless 
sun  !  Under  that  light  men  come  and  go,  and 
come  again  !  I  went  from  this  mosque  thirty  years 
ago,  and  have  come  again  !  Were  you  not  here 
then?" 

"  Yes,"  he  responded,  "  I  was  here  thirty-eight 
years  ago,  and  have  been  here  ever  since,  as  custo- 
dian. It  is  strange,  most  strange  !  " 

"  Do  you  recall  the  American  party  who  were 
driven  from  the  Mosque  of  St.  Sophia,  and  who 
came  here  soon  after,  four  in  number,  one  a  golden- 
haired  girl — " 

He  pondered  awhile,  and  at  length  he  seemed  to 
remember,  or  to  believe  that  he  recalled,  us. 

"  Your  name  is —  ?" 

"  Hafis  Mehmet,"  said  Dionysius.  How  good 
of  him  to  remined  us ! 

"  The  same,"  I  said.  "  It  is  in  my  book  and 
memory.  It  will  be  there  again  !  May  I  live  thirty 
years  more,  to  come  to  you  again,  and  may  you  be 
here  to  welcome  me  ! " 

"  Isallah  !  If  the  Father  God  preserve  us  we 
will  see  each  other  again  after  thirty  years." 

"  Then  farewell,  Hafis,  my  old  friend." 

"  Adieu,"  he  said  in  good  French,  as  I  proffered 
to  him  an  unexpected  hand,  which  he  grasped. 

"  You  are  the  only  human  being  of  this  city  whom 
I  met  here  then,  and  recall  now !  Allah  preserve 
and  comfort  you." 

"  Allah  !  razi  olah  !     Allah  bereket  versin  /  " 

"  Praise  to  God  !     May  God  receive  you  !  " 

I  would  not  have  disturbed  that  man's  creed  for 
all  the  largesses  of  oriental  empire.  He  may  be  a 
devotee  of  a  "  creed  outworn,"  but  he  was  the 


CHANGES  IN    THE    TURKISH  CAPITAL.  115 

honest  keeper  of  dead  regalities,  and  faithful  to  his 
trust. 

"  They  do  not  wisely  that  with  hurried  hand 
Would  pluck  these  salutary  fancies  forth 
As  worthless  weeds.     Oh  !  little  do  we  know 
When  they  have  soothed — when  saved  !  " 

And  so,  resuming  my  shoes  and  the  heat  and 
dust  of  the  pilgrimage  of  life,  I  leave  Hafts  to  the 
"  sessions  of  sweet  silent  thought  to  summon  up 
remembrance  "  of  the  past  two  generations,  which 
we  have  survived  ! 

As  I  pass  out  I  see  a  chamber  full  of  all  sorts  of 
tombs,  big  and  little,  very  well  accoutred  and  cared 
for,  but  not  regally  as  those  of  Aziz  and  his  father 
Mahmoud. 

"What  and  whose  are  they?"  I  asked  of 
Dionysius. 

Our  guide  is  dazed  at  my  tenderness  toward 
the  Ottoman  with  whom  I  just  parted,  or  else  his 
English  and  French  are  confused.  He  endeavors 
to  explain,  in  a  patois  made  up  of  Greek,  Turkish, 
Armenian,  French,  and  English,  the  latter  predom- 
inating and  utterly  unintelligible. 

"  You  know  the  Sultans  have  nusses — Vet  you 
call  them,"  he  said. 

"'Vet  I  call  them?  Why  nurses,  women  with 
babies,"  I  responded. 

"  Oh  !  yes,  Vet  nusses.  These  Vet  nusses,  vich 
give  milk  to  the  little  Sultans,  vich  vill  be  big  Sul- 
tans ;  they  have  little  babies  also,  vich  ven  they 
nuss  little  Sultans,  have  no  life  more,  and  so  they 
are  buried  here  with  their  mothers." 

This  was  not  clear ;  I  asked  him  to  try  it  again. 

"You  understand,"  he  resumed,  "that  when  Vet 
nusses  suckle  little  Sultans,  and  have  husbands  and 


jjg  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

make  new  babies,  the  little  babies  have  life  no 
more,  but  in  seven  years  they  get  killed  because 
their  mother  nussed  little  baby  Sultan,  and  must 
not  nuss  no  more  baby." 

Ah,  it  dawns  !  These  are  the  tombs  provided 
by  the  lords  of  the  land  out  of  reverence  to  them- 
selves, who  alone  should  drink  of  the  breasts  of 
the  nurse,  to  be  followed  by  no  vulgar  little  child 
at  the  saine  maternal  source  ;  for  after  seven  years 
all  such  babies  are  killed,  as  there  must  not  be  two 
living  offspring  fed  from  the  same  lacteal  fountain! 
I  am  to  blame  for  not  at  once  understanding  better 
this  now  perspicuous  statement ;  but  I  had  filled  my 
fancy  full  of  the  fate  of  little  dead  Sultans  and  Sul- 
tanas, with  tiny  turbans  and  veils  over  their  tombs, 
who,  under  certain  policies  of  state,  were  strangled 
after  birth  in  order  to  limit  the  line  of  succession 
to  the  throne. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

THE  OTTOMAN  EMPIRE  AS  SEEN  BENEATH  THE  SURFACE 
—ITS  DEGENERACY- ITS  CORRUPTION  AND  VENALITY 
—THE  DEAD  TURKISH  PARLIAMENT— THE  UNITED 
STATES  AND  TURKEY. 

A  feeble  government,  eluded  laws, 
A  factious  populace,  luxurious  nobles, 
And  all  the  maladies  of  sinking  states 
When  public  villainy,  too  strong  for  justice. 
Shows  his  bold  front,  the  harbinger  of  ruin. 

— IRENE,  Act  i. 

ON  the  fifth  anniversary  of  the  present  Sultan's 
reign,  some  of  the  journals  here  eulogized  his 
rule  for  the  progress  made  since  his  accession.  The 
facts  do  not  fully  bear  out  the  praise.  What  the 
external  signs  of  Turkish  wealth  and  progress  are, 
I  have  shown  in  dealing  only  with  historic  events 
and  social  incidents,  and  as  compared  with  my 
former  visit  here  in  1851.  It  is  of  more  moment 
to  those  who  would  study  the  empire  for  its  lessons 
in  economic  and  social  science  to  know  the  real  re- 
sults of  this  peculiar  civilization,  and  the  present 
condition  of  Turkish  industries,  trade,  and  finance. 
This  study  I  found  partly  done  to  my  hand  in  a  re- 
port made  last  month  by  our  able  Consul-General, 
Mr.  Heap,  which  I  am  kindly  permitted  to  peruse 
in  advance  of  its  publication.  I  select  from  it  not 
the  details,  but  some  of  the  leading  facts,  leaving 
deductions  to  be  drawn  by  others  of  a  philosoph- 
ical turn  of  mind. 

«7 


,T8  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

That  Turkey  has  partaken  a  little  of  the  general 
advancement  of  mankind  since  1851  is  easily  ob- 
served. Three  new  Sultans  and  divers  Ministers 
have  come  and  gone  since  then,  but  that  is  of  less 
moment  than  the  coming  and  going  of  the  steam- 
ships and  rail  trains,  which  make  of  this  harbor  and 
city  a  picture  as  unlike  that  of  1851,  as  that  of  the 
New  York  of  1850  is  unlike  that  of  to-day. 

We  perceive  in  our  hotel  and  from  the  papers 
that  financial  men  are  here  holding  seances  with 
the  financial  minister,  Said  Pasha,  as  to  the  non- 
interest-paying  bonds.  We  know,  too,  how  strangely 
mixed  are  the  revenues  under  the  peculiar  system 
of  their  farming  and  collection.  All  these  are  signs 
not  unlike  that  of  a  coroner's  presence,  that  a  dead 
body  is  about  or  about  to  be  about.  But  for  the 
miraculous  resurrection  of  Turkey  so  often,  we 
might  regard  her  as  moribund,  if  not  deceased. 
Add  the  distrust  occasioned  by  the  singular  death 
of  the  late  Sultan,  and  the  banishment,  under  a  form 
of  trial,  of  one  of  the  progressive  statesmen  of 
this  country,  Midhat  Pasha,  and  you  may  under- 
stand why  Turkey  is  not  exempt  from  domestic 
apprehensions  as  well  as  from  external  troubles. 

These  external  troubles  grow  out  of  the  unrest 
of  the  autonomous  provinces  of  Europe,  and  the 
urgency  of  the  treaty  powers  for  promised  re- 
forms, as  well  as  of  the  incipient  impatience  of 
Greece  and  Albania,  where  the  chronic  foe  of  the 
Turk  lurks  and  lives.  It  is  impossible  to  make  a 
proper  photograph  of  these  serious  aspects  of 
Turkey  without  some  simple  statements  as  to  its 
polity. 

Turkey  is  a  monarchy,  with  a  Constitution,  said 
to  be  limited.  What  the  limits  are,  has  been  with 


TURKEY  AS  SEEN  BENEATH  THE  SURFACE. 


119 


the  Turks  and  others  quite  as  grave  a  discussion 
as  the  limitations  of  our  American  Constitution. 
The  Ulemas  have  a  chief,  who  is,  like  our  own 
Chief  Justice,  the  head  of  the  judicature ;  but, 
unlike  him,  he  is  chief  judge  of  spiritual  matters. 
When  he  interprets  the  law,  or  the  Koran,  or  the 
Constitution,  he  does  it  under  the  favor  of  the 
Sultan.  If  the  Sultan  be  truly  grand,  like  the 
second  Mahmoud,  who  obtained  a  decision  that 
enabled  him  legally  to  slaughter  the  janizaries,  he 
will  have  his  own  interpretation  of  the  organic  stat- 
utes. Graciously  permitting  the  chief  and  court  of 
the  Ulemas  to  interpret,  he  will  pound  them  to  death 
in  a  mortar  if  they  do  not  interpret  as  he  desires. 
This  is  no  joke,  and  in  the  aforetime  was  a  serious 
matter  to  the  Ulemas.  But  when  a  Sultan  like 
the  present  one  is  on  the  throne,  there  is  no  great 
fear  that  he  will  override  the  decision  of  the: 
Ulemas,  even  if  it  be  outside  the  record  or  oppo 
site  to  his  own  view  or  will.  The  present  chief  off 
Islam  and  head  of  the  Ulemas  is,  therefore,  more 
potent  than  the  Prime  Minister  of  a  Sultan. 

There  is  a  responsible  Ministry  here,  which  has 
charge,  as  in  other  countries,  of  departments"  but 
the  Legislature  is  an  absent  body.  Did  this  station 
ever  have  a  Parliament  or  Congress  ?  Yes, ;:  and 
have  yet — on  paper.  In  their  stress,  during  the 
Russian  war,  a  Congress  was  called.  Its  members 
were  selected  by  the  Governors  of  the  provinces, 
and  in  some  form  of  election.  Still,  it  began  to 
crystallize  and  talk,  and  rriake  rules  and  inquiries 
of  the  Ministers.  Questions  quite  inconvenient 
were  put  as  to  taxes  and  trials,  revenues  and 
rogues,  and  some  bold  young  men  from  the  re- 
mote districts  began  to  grow  eloquent,  and  bard- 


I20  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

headed  old  sheiks  began  to  show  how  sensible  they 
were.  All  at  once  a  proclamation  dissolved,  as  a 
proclamation  had  made,  them.  A  young  and  elo- 
quent member  from  Antioch,  who  was  quite  anxious 
about  certain  corruptions,  was  sent  home  under 
Government  convoy,  and  the  honorable  gentleman 
from  Jerusalem  found  his  city  of  refuge  in  London. 
The  city  of  Solomon  was  utterly  inconsequential 
in  the  affairs  of  war,  peace,  and  taxation.  This 
Congress  was  interesting  as  an  experiment.  It 
showed  how  out  of  mere  gaseous  elements  there 
were  gathering  stars  for  an  oriental  heaven  of  or- 
atory ;  Websters,  Clays,  and  Calhouns  of  solid 
logic  and  eloquence,  and  Damascus  blades  and 
jeweled  yataghans  of  wit  and  rhetoric.  Sultans, 
as  Presidents  sometimes,  do  not  like  Legislatures 
to  be  near  them  ;  and  the  simplest  souls  of  repub- 
lics are  those  who  bemoan  the  sessions  of  Legisla- 
tures as  if  they  were  more  harmful  than  unrestricted 
and  corrupt  power. 

Turkey  has  connected  with  her  certain  provinces 
in  Europe  which  have  some  autonomy  and  some 
local  legislative  faculties.  There  is  a  pressure  to 
increase  this  home  rule.  England  has  urged  the 
Sultan  to  this  end,  and  her  urgency  would  have 
immense  emphasis,  if  the  Turk  did  not  point  to 
Ireland  and  smile  ! 

Her  provinces  are  ruled  by  Governors.  They 
are  divided  into  departments  ;  and  these  again,  ci  la 
mode  Fran$aise,  into  arrondissements,  with  corre- 
sponding grades  of  officers.  There  are  no  titles  of 
nobility,  but  there  are  affixes,  like  Pasha,  Effendi, 
Bey,  Aga,  and  others,  which  betoken  official  or  fam- 
ily station.  There  is  but  one  restraint  upon  these 
officials,  that  of  the  Sultan's  will,  if  he  chooses  to 


TURKEY  AS  SEEN  BENEATH  THE  SURFACE.        I2i 

use  it,  and  that  of  the  chief  of  Islam  and  his  College 
of  Ulemas.  There  is,  therefore,  not  much  respon- 
sibility among  the  officials.  Like  all  satrapies,  the 
provinces  in  Asia  are  governed  by  the  will  of  one 
man,  distant  from  the  source  of  power. 

There  is  an  affluence  of  wealth  in  this  realm,  if 
it  could  only  have  the  magic  wand  to  strike  the 
rock  and  bid  it  flow.  But  there  is  a  fear  of  Christian 
or  western  control  that  stops  enterprise. 

The  population  is  composite.  Even  at  the  start 
of  the  empire  by  Othman,  a  Greek  woman  became 
the  wife  of  the  founder,  and  the  descendants  of  this 
woman  still  rule,  to  exemplify  the  mixed  condition 
of  affairs  and  people.  There  is  no  sentiment  of 
nationality,  such  as  Cicero  describes,  and  as  we  and 
other  nations  have  it.  The  Moslem  £aith  is  the 
common  sentiment.  Bagdad  and  Bosnia  have  a 
common  Koran,  and  Broussa  and  Morocco  a  com- 
mon Mohammed.  Morocco  may  have  her  own  local 
government,  and  so  may  Roumelia,  but  the  faith, 
which  is  one,  makes  a  mutual  citizenship  in  all  this 
vast  theocracy  of  Islam.  The  theory  is  that  the 
Koran  being  dictated  by  the  Angel  Gabriel,  Mo- 
hammed received  it  passively,  and  all  his  descend- 
ants, including  the  Sultan,  are  under  the  law,  not 
above  it.  When,  therefore,  ,11  great  thing  like  the 
killing  off  of  the  janizaries  is  to  be  done,  the  Ule- 
ma's  decision  is  called  for.  One  of  the  Sultans 
desires  to  drink  champagne.  The  chief  Ulema 
decides  that  it  is  not  a  drink  to  be  prohibited,  as 
it  did  not  exist  when  Gabriel  blew  his  horn  and 
gave  the  law.  In  a  word,  citizenship  is  creed. 
Dar-ul-Islam,  from  Afghanistan  to  Bulgaria,  is  the 
world,  and  that  is  the  country  of  Islam.  All  out- 
side goes  for  nothing  in  theory.  When,  therefore, 


T22 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


people  speak  of  reforming  Turkey  they  must  reform 
Mohammedanism.  This  is  no  easy  task,  if  we 
are  to  believe  in  the  recent  reports  of  its  devotees. 
What  a  world  it  is — Africans,  Malays,  Tartars, 
Arabs,  Chinese,  not  to  speak  of  the  people  of 
Turkey.  It  is  not  bounded  by  Turkey  in  Europe 
or  Turkey  in  Asia.  The  Turk  is  a  chief  .sign  and 
figure-head,  but  he  does  not  rule  the  forty  millions 
of  Mussulman  East  Indians,  or  the  thirty  millions 
of  Mussulman  Malays,  or  the  fifteen  millions  of 
Mussulman  Chinese,  or  the  ten  millions  of  Mussul- 
man Africans,  or  the  five  millions  of  Egyptian  Mus- 
sulmans, and  the  other  Barbary  eighteen  millions, 
or  the  eleven  and  a  half  millions  of  Mohammedan 
Arabs,  or  the  six  millions  of  Circassian  Tartars,  and 
five  million,  others. 

A  careful  writer  in  the  Fortnightly  Review  gives 
a  tabular  statement  of  Islamism  and  its  national- 
ities. They  are  computed  from  the  arrivals  at 
Mecca,  and  are  astonishing,  if  true.  It  is  an  odd 
way  of  census-taking ;  but  it  is  the  best  mode  to 
be  had,  as  no  registrar  or  census  bureau  exists  in 
Turkey  or  in  the  Mohammedan  countries.  He 
makes  175,000,000  as  the  total  of  Islam.  There 
are  among  them  many  sects,  but  with  these  ideas 
as  their  bond,  viz.,  one  God,  a  future  life  of  reward 
or  punishment,  and  revelation  to  the  forerun- 
ners of,  as  well  as  to  Mohammed  himself.  There 
are  some  wine-drinking,  polytheistic,  and  other  het- 
erodox opinions  and  creeds  ;  but  at  least  175,000,- 
ooo  are  genuine  orthodox  Mohammedans,  and  the 
question  often  comes  up  when  aggressions  are 
made,  as  in  India  or  Tunis :  What  if  there  were  a 
Jehad,  or  religious  war? 

There  was  a  sect  called  Wahhabites,  number- 


TURKEY  AS  SEEN  BENEATH  THE  SURFACE. 


123 


ing  8,000,000.  They  did  not  accept  the  faith  as 
finished,  but  believed  that  inquiry  and  revision 
might  ever  be  made.  They  were  guilty  of  excesses. 
They  destroyed  tombstones  and  minarets,  and  the 
sect  fell.  Then  reform  halted.  Heresy  failed,  and 
the  Moslem  of  Arabia,  where  the  reform  started, 
relapsed  into  acquiescence  about  the  shrines  of 
Medina  and  Mecca  as  holy — alone  holy ! 

It  is,  therefore,  urged  by  some  recent  observers 
that  reform  in  Turkey  is  impossible  so  long  as  it  is 
impossible  in  the  religion  of  the  land,  and  that  all 
attempts  to  make  life  and  property  safe,  and  the 
rights  of  conscience  sacred,  will  be  delayed,  if  not 
fail  altogether.  All  analogies  as  to  the  refinement 
and  progress  made  by  this  race,  as  in  Spain  by  the 
Moors,  is  otherwise  accounted  for.  All  hopes 
growing  out  of  the  employment  of  skilled  officers 
from  other  nations  are  disregarded,  so  long  as  the 
Koran  is  the  fundamental  law,  the  Ulemas  its  in- 
terpreters, and  a  compliant  Sultan  defers  to  these 
laggard  hindrances.  Hence  it  is  prophesied  that 
either  these  reforms  must  be  made,  even  if  gradu- 
ally, with  time  for  political  discipline,  or,  a  catas- 
trophe will  end  all  hopes,  and  a  grand  rush  be 
made  for  the  loot  and  spoils,  where  in  some  re- 
treat across  the  Bosphorus  they  may  be  enjoyed 
without  the  harassing  intervention  of  European 
powers. 

When  that  catastrophe  comes,  and  the  Turk  re- 
crosses  into  Asia,  whose  will  Constantinople  be  ? 
Who  will  have  the  provinces  in  Europe  ?  Will  it 
be  Emperor,  Kaiser,  Czar,  or  Queen  ?  When  you 
answer  these  questions  you  may  see  one  of  the 
difficulties  of  rescuing  these  ancient  empires,  where 
so  many  millions  once  lived  in  prosperity.  Before 


J24  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

another  year  these  questions  will  be  answered  by 
the  strength  and  skill  of  armaments  and  armies. 

The  area  of  Turkey  is  339,21 1  square  kilometres, 
or  twenty-six  people  to  the  square  kilometre.  A 
kilometre  is  about  three-fifths  of  a  mile.  The 
population  is  9,897,400,  of  which  half  are  in  the 
immediate  possessions  in  Asia,  and  the  rest  in 
Bulgaria,  Austria- Hungary,  Bosnia,  Herzegovina, 
and  Roumania.  These  figures  seem  to  be  well 
digested  from  some  six  authentic  sources.  The 
largest  province  is  Constantinople.  It  has  about 
2,000,000  souls,  including  121,267  Christians  and 
22,943  Israelites.  This  is  not  the  city  (which 
has  but  600,000),  but  the  vilayet  or  province.  It 
extends  from  the  head  of  the  Bosphorus  to  the 
Dardanelles.  When  you  add  to  the  population  of 
Turkey  in  Europe  and  Asia  that  of  the  protecto- 
rates of  Tripoli,  Egypt,  and  Tunis,  there  is  said  to 
be  45,578,000,  averaging  seven  to  the  square  kilo- 
metre. Jerusalem  has  but  30,000,  but  it  is  increas- 
ing. 

The  foreign  commerce  from  1873  to  1877  shows 
a  constant  loss  in  exports  and  imports.  In  1877 
the  exports  are  given  as  "  ?,"  and  imports  as  about 
$65,000,000.  The  exports  of  1876  were  about 
$50,000,000.  The  merchant  marine  is  34,500  tons, 
and  steamers  3,350  tons.  As  to  Bulgaria,  we  know 
how  it  is  governed  by  the  Prince  Alexander.  It  has 
two  millions  of  people,  and  is  prosperous,  though 
discontented.  Samos,  whose  wine  Byron  sung, 
is  a  principality,  and  has  a  population  of  37,701. 
It  is  decorated  with  a  Greek  Senate.  Egypt,  with 
its  18,000,000  people,  is  the  most  interesting  of 
all  the  provinces  of  Turkey,  if  indeed  it  be  one 
in  any  substantial  sense.  Complications  are  rack- 


TURKEY  AS  SEEN  BENEATH  THE  SURFACE. 


125 


ing  this  land  of  renown.  This  cradle  of  civiliza- 
tion is  being  rocked  by  the  military,  who,  copying 
the  janizary  tactics,  are  endeavoring  to  control  the 
new  Khedive.  As  other  powers  have  interests 
there,  commercial  and  financial,  the  Government 
has  become  more  anomalous  than  that  of  Turkey 
itself.  It  has  an  army,  navy,  and  a  debt.  Another1 
canal  is  projected,  so  well  does  Suez  pay.  In 
1879  there  passed  through  it  3,236,942  of  tonnage. 
As  to  Tunis,  the  hold  of  Turkey  has  slipped  com- 
pletely into  the  grasp  of  France.  In  time  Tripoli 
may  go  to  Italy,  and  perhaps  Egypt  to  England — 
who  knows  ? 

The  finances  of  Turkey  are  given  in  piastres  (5 
cents),  and  in  that  currency  make  a  grand  show  of 
totalities.  In  1879  tne  expenses  are  returned  at 
1,424,582,000,  exceeding  the  revenues  by  120,245,- 
559.  But  there  is  such  a  confusion  of  the  currency 
that  I  am  not  able  to  make  out  just  what  the  de- 
ficit, debt,  or  anything  else  absolutely  is,  without 
risking  some  errors.  The  debt  is  1,590,887,433 
piastres.  Of  this  sum  the  foreign  portion  is  about 
one-half,  and  a  little  of  this  is  guaranteed  by  Eng- 
land and  France,  and  more  by  the  Egyptian  reve- 
nues. On  the  other  portion  of  the  foreign  debt 
the  interest  is  suspended,  and  on  the  railroad  obli- 
gations and  Ottoman  Bank  debts  no  interest  is 
being  paid.  This  is  the  case  with  the  paper 
money,  which  is  put  down  at  75,000,000.  Make 
this  budget  as  pretty  on  paper  as  you  may,  it  is 
still  an  exhibit  of  bankruptcy,  and  the  commission 
of  foreign  bondholders  now  here  have  treated  it 
accordingly.  The  army  consists  of  75,200  men. 
It  has  been  reorganized  since  the  Russian  war, 
when  it  fell  to  12,000.  It  is  not  paid  any  more 


I26  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

than  the  debtholders.  There  is  a  small  navy,  but  I 
am  told  that  there  are  some  first-class  guns. 

The  currency  of  this  country  is  mixed,  both  in 
quality  and  quantity.  Its  values  are  first  based  on 
gold,  then  silver,  like  the  piastres — which  are  lo/K 
to  the  100.  Another  kind,  the  "  metallic,"  is  mixed, 
alloyed.  It  is  205^  to  the  100 ;  then  the  veshlik, 
a  kind  of  copper  alloy,  is  worth  209^  I  then  a 
silver  issue,  altelik,  is  127  to  the  100  ;  then  a  cop- 
per, adulterated,  is  650  to  the  100.  It  is  taken  in 
the  interior;  then  caime  paper  (greenback),  1,450 
to  the  100.  There  are  six  kinds  of  currency.  The 
greatest  liberties  have  been  taken  in  paying  it  out, 
such  liberties  as  only  such  a  government  may  take 

It  has  been  impossible  to  obtain  any  trustworthy 
statistics  of  the  trade  of  this  empire.  Where  and 
when  sought,  the  facts  are  given  reluctantly,  or  not 
at  all.  I  have  given  the  latest  which  the  Almanack 
Gotha  gives.  I  now  resort  for  more  details  to  our 
consul.  Very  incomplete  returns  after  the  war 
with  Russia  show,  that  for  two  years — 1878-9 — the 
exports  were  $36,493,499.34,  and  the  imports  $86,- 
996,629.82.  This  is  not  flattering  to  Turkey  ;  but 
it  is  to  be  remembered  that  prior  to  these  years 
there  was  a  great  war,  which  absorbed  the  labor  of 
agriculture,  and  that  the  laborers  were  in  arms. 
England  received  the  greatest  amount  of  the  ex- 
ports, and  France  next.  Russia,  Greece,  and 
Egypt  came  next,  and  the  United  States  about 
$400,600  worth.  As  to  imports,  England  furnished 
half,  France,  Austria,  Hungary,  Russia,  Italy,  Per- 
sia, and  Greece  the  most  of  the  residue,  while  the 
United  States  imported  here  only  $1,809,970. 

Before  the  Crimean  and  Russian  wars  Turkey 
furnished  raw  silk  to  France  and  Switzerland,  and 


TURKEY  AS  SEEN  BENEATH  THE  SURFACE.        I27 

rice,  olive-oil,  and  cereals  to  Europe.  In  the 
absence  of  authentic  returns  our  consul  cannot 
give  other  than  disjecta  membra;  but  it  is  seen 
that  in  the  European  provinces,  since  the  Russian 
war  ended,  over  ten  millions  of  dollars'  worth  of 
grains  were  sent  to  England,  mostly  via  this  port ; 
while  Asia  Minor  gave  maize  and  wheat  amounting 
to  two  millions.  Out  of  this  abandoned  land,  how- 
ever, the  "  sesame"  has  a  significance  hardly  up  to 
the  returns  of  Aladdin  ;  but  a  quarter  of  a  million 
of  this  seed  came  to  the  world  from  the  Asiatic 
provinces.  Wool,  when  not  used  by  Government, 
has  had  an  export ;  but  the  fine  silky  mohair  has 
been  taxed  out  of  existence.  I  saw  some  few  of 
these  goats  going  out  to  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope ; 
for  where  they  have  not  been  sold  and  sent  abroad, 
they  have  been  killed  by  their  owners  for  food. 
Such  is  the  blind  cupidity  of  this  miserably  man- 
aged Government.  Carpets,  rugs,  sponges,  rhubarb, 
dye-stuffs,  oil  of  roses  from  the  one  hundred-leafed 
roses  of  Roumania,  hemp,  tobacco,  opium,  emery, 
copper,  and  chrome,  as  well  as  dry  fruits  like  the 
fig,  and  fresh  ones  like  the  orange,  might  under  a 
decent  system  here  thrive,  with  a  trade,  more 
abundantly.  Coal,  too,  has  been  found  on  the 
Black  Sea  shore,  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  from 
the  mouth  of  the  Bosphorus  ;  but  since  the  finding 
in  1854,  and  some  practical  mining  during  the  Cri- 
mean war  by  the  British,  there  has  been  no  enter- 
prise. These  four  hundred  and  fifty  square  miles 
of  coal,  holding  sixty  millions  of  tons,  may  yet 
figure  in  some  Turkish  census,  if  ever  the  Govern- 
ment can  get  rid  of  its  bribery,  and  give  honest 
concessions  to  work  the  mines,  and  for  railroad 
companies  to  transport  the  coal  when  mined.  It 


I2g  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

is  so  with  iron,  copper,  and  silver.  No  one  can  get 
a  firman  to  work  these  mines  of  wealth  without 
giving  backsheesh  to  the  lazy  Turks  who  hold  the 
interior  power.  True,  Turkey  has  in  Europe  nine 
hundred  and  eighty-eight  miles  of  railway  running 
west  to  Adrianople,  and  from  Adrianople  south- 
ward to  Makito,  on  the  ^Egean  ;  but  the  shares 
which  sold  at  one  hundred  and  eighty  francs  are 
now  quoted  at  fifty-nine.  In  Asia,  there  are  eight 
hundred  and  fifty  miles,  running  out  from  Smyrna, 
under  English  control  and  capital.  There  is  also 
a  road  from  Scutari  to  Ismid,  following  the  north 
shore  of  Marmora.  There  are  some  street  rail- 
roads here,  one  of  five  miles  and  another  of  eight 
and  one  half.  These  once  trebled  in  value  ;  now 
they  are  trebly  less.  There  is  a  little  underground 
affair  I  have  traveled  on  from  the  port  to  the  top 
of  the  hill  here  in  Pera — five  hundred  and  thirty- 
six  yards — in  three  minutes,  drawn  by  a  stationary 
engine,  first-class  ticket,  a  piastre  or  five  cents.  I 
should  say  it  is  doing  well.  It  is  in  the  European 
quarter.  The  ferry  of  the  thirty-five  steamers  up 
and  down  the  Bosphorus  is  hejd  by  Turks,  and 
makes  money. 

The  great  need  here,  however,  is  communication. 
In  Asia  Minor  this  is  indispensable.  It  is  moun- 
tainous. It  has  no  river  transportation  except  the 
Euphrates.  The  exactions  upon  that  river  and 
elsewhere  by  tribes  and  local  sheiks  require  an 
armed  escort.  He  who  trades  or  travels  risks 
goods  and  life.  No  one  has  any  desire  to  produce 
more  than  enough  for  a  bare  living.  In  these  lands, 
where  millions  once  lived — where  cities  of  wonder- 
ful size  and  opulence  on  seashore  and  inland  ex- 
isted— where  now  the  archaeologists  are  delving, 


TURKEY  AS  SEEN  BENEATH  THE  SURFACE, 


129 


under  safe  conduct,  for  the  relics  of  ancient  power, 
glory,  and  prosperity — there  is  nothing  of  transport 
to  or  from,  except  the  enthusiasm  of  genius.  The 
local  wants  and  the  taxes  take  all.  If  you  should 
stay  here  for  years,  and  pay  out  your  fortune  in 
bribing  the  underlings  and  eunuchs  of  these  offices 
you  would  go  away  moneyless,  and  with  no  con- 
cession to  employ  either  your  capital,  skill,  or  labor 
to  develop  these  rich  possibilities  in  these  ancient 
empires.  Therefore  the  best  advice  to  be  given 
to  those  whom  I  see  here,  adventuring  into  these 
ancient  haunts  of  history,  is  from  the  Psalm  of 
David  : 

"Gather  not  thy  soul  with  sinners,  nor  thy  life  with  bloody  men, 
in  whose  hands  is  mischief,  and  their  right  hand  is  full  of  bribes." 

Armenia  is  the  worst  sample  of  the  condition  of 
this  country.  There  the  Mohammedan  raids  the 
Christian  Armenian,  and  adds  to  the  destitution  of 
absolute  famine  all  that  the  locusts  will  leave  in 
their  march  of  destruction.  An  earthquake  at 
Scio,  a  fire  at  Treboli,  a  pestilence  on  the  Eu- 
phrates, added  to  agitation  among  the  Syrian 
tribes  and  general  imminency  of  war,  are  but  feeble 
plagues  compared  with  the  affliction  with  which 
this  Government  is  menaced.  The  body  of  this 
people  are  "wasting  their  strength  in  strenuous 
idleness."  Agents  are  here  from  other  Govern- 
ments, urging  reform.  They  are  asking  for  op- 
portunities to  employ  capital  and  skill.  I  have 
talked  with  some  of  these  agents.  They  despond. 
They  are  not  paid  themselves.  The  revenues  of 
two  Asiatic  provinces  were  promised  to  pay  the 
Government  employes  engaged  in  bringing  order 
out  of  chaos,  and  honesty  out  of  corruption,  when 


I3o  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

it  was  found  that  these  very  revenues  were  already 
pledged.  If  frugality  is  ever  practiced  here,  it  is 
that  thrift  may  feed  success.  Not  long  since,  the 
Prime  Minister,  who  spoke  for  the  Sultan,  de- 
plored this  condition.  In  speaking  to  the  bankers 
here,  who  were  urging  concessions  for  improve- 
ments, he  said  :  "  When  ignorant  eunuchs  obtain 
a  voice  in  the  State  councils,  Ministers  cannot 
govern.  I  find  hindrances  to  every  attempt  at 
reform." 

Col.  Baker  (not  the  Pasha,  but  an  officer  here, 
and  a  thorough  cosmopolitan,  if  not  an  American 
in  heart)  told  me  that  he  had  just  read  Walter 
Scott's  fiction,  "  Robert  of  Paris."  It  is  descriptive 
of  the  old  Greek  policy.  He  says  it  is  an  exact 
picture  of  the  present  Turkish  rule  in  its  employ- 
ment of  foreigners,  its  disingenuous  expedients,  its 
bad  faith,  its  corruption  of  officials,  and,  I  suppose, 
in  its  supple  rascalities  and  pious  frauds  generally. 
He  is  supervising  the  constabulary  force  in  process 
of  organization  for  all  Turkey.  He  lives  in  North- 
west Iowa,  or  his  family  does.  He  has  his  prop- 
erty there.  He  has  fought  Russians  and  has 
trophies  of  East  Indian  conflict.  He  is  exceed- 
ingly American,  and  has  a  romantic  experience. 
He  gave  me  much  insight  into  this  Turkish  lag- 
gardness,  which  arouses  the  spleen  of  all  Europe, 
England  not  excepted.  For  eleven  months  he  has 
not  had  his  pay,  and  for  thirty-one  months  no 
Turkish  soldier  or  officer  has  had  pay. 

All  the  exhortations  of  the  European  powers  here 
fail.  This  Government  is  not  tractable  to  their  pecu- 
liar reason,  or  to  anything  but  force.  Day  by  day  its 
resources  fail  and  the  exactions  increase  ;  the  pro- 
duction diminishes,  and  the  mortgages  are  renewed 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


and  redoubled.  Yet  with  all  this  inefficiency,  im- 
poverishment, and  corruption,  the  Turkish  soldiers 
continue  their  patriotic  devotion  without  pay,  hoping 
that  the  future  may  be  better.  Mr.  Consul  Heap 
gives  the  disease  and  the  remedy  in  a  few  words. 
"  Turkey,"  he  says,  "  cannot  remain  stationary. 
Her  entire  policy  must  be  changed.  Her  present 
danger  is  the  entire  want  of  confidence  in  her,  which 
prevents  the  influx  of  capital.  The  bonds  of  society 
are  loosened,  and  the  laws  are  becoming  powerless. 
Brigandage,  anarchy,  and  poverty  are  spreading. 
The  outlook  is  gloomy.  Many  believe  that  this  is 
a  season  of  trial  and  probation,  and  that  if  they  are 
true  to  their  creed  and  traditions,  a  sun  of  glory 
and  power  will  arise  and  shed  its  beneficent  rays 
over  Islam.  Others,  and  these  the  most  numerous, 
look  with  utter  despondency  on  the  future,  and 
bow  submissively  to  that  which  is  written  in  the 
book  of  fate."  In  one  word,  Kismet  sentences 
Islam,  and  writes  her  doom  in  the  book  of  time. 

All  this  I  record.  It  has  been  recorded  of  other 
nations.  But  which  is  the  nation  to  cast  the  first 
stone  at  the  frailties  of  Turkey  ?  What  will  Utah 
say  ?  What  the  conqueror  of  India  and  Algiers  ? 

The  difficulties  of  resurrecting  European  Turkey 
are  not  altogether  from  the  Moslem  religion.  In 
these  provinces,  where  various  religions  are  found, 
the  Christians  are  now  getting  along  very  well. 
Greece  has  acquired  territory  and  comparative 
quiet,  and  it  is  likely  that  there  will  be  an  exodus 
of  European  Mohammedans  to  Asia.  I  am  pointed 
out  beggars  and  pilgrims — men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren— at  the  mosque  doors,  who  are  Mohammedan 
refugees  from  Europe.  Eastward  the  star  of  Mo- 
hammed takes  its  way,  never  to  go  west  again,  ex- 


132  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

cept  through  Africa,  whose  tribes  are  suited  to  that 
faith,  and,  as  it  is  held,  improved  by  it. 

Of  course  in  all  this  the  American  nation  has  but 
a  remote  concern.  The  greatest  interest  we  have 
here  is  in  our  missionary  enterprises,  our  Bible 
.  House,  and  Robert  College.  There  may  be  in  re- 
1  serve  for  our  petroleum  and  cotton  fabrics  a  future 
market  of  some  consequence.  But  as  yet  it  is  in 
embryo.  Turkey  knows  that  we  are  of  little  mo- 
ment to  her,  as  she  is  to  us.  The  United  States 
Minister  has  been  here,  as  his  predecessor  was,  for 
forty  days  without  reception  or  recognition.  He 
has  presented  his  credentials  and  had  his  speech 
examined,  but  Ramazan  and  Bairam — fast  and  feast 
— are  the  pretexts  made  to  defer  his  reception. 

I  am  anxious  to  be  here  when  the  reception 
comes  off.  I  am  promised  to  be  one  of  General 
Wallace's  suite,  and  having  a  taste  for  the  theatri- 
cal, I  am  practicing  the  proper  salaams.  I  am  told 
that  it  is  quite  a  good  school  for  histrionic  essay. 
When  General  Longstreet  was  about  to  be  received, 
he  invited  the  officers  of  one  of  our  vessels  to  be  of 
his  suite.  A  fat  officer,  who  had  been  posted  on 
the  subject  from  the  traditions  and  gossip,  was  drill- 
ing his  brother  officers.  He  was  holding  up  his 
abdominal  muscles  with  exemplary  courtesy,  his 
elbows  akimbo,  and  his  upper  half  at  right  angles 
to  the  other  half,  and  was  backing  out  of  the  pres- 
ence of  a  supposititious  Sultan,  to  whom  his  bows 
were  fancied  to  be  as  grateful  myrrh  and  frankin- 
cense, when,  alas  !  he  sat  down  on  a  brazier  of  red- 
hot  coals  !  He  arose.  The  drill  was  quickly  sus- 
pended with  peals  of  laughter.  I  recalled  a  similar 
incident  of  my  boyish  days,  when,  in  bowing  out 
of  my  aunt's  presence,  I  suddenly  sat  down  in  a  tub 


TURKEY  AS  SEEN  BENEATH  THE  SURFACE.        I33 

of  melted  tallow  which  was  prepared  for  dipping 
candles !  It  is  needless  to  say  that  I  also  arose 
with  alacrity.  This  incident  has  made  me  cautious 
all  my  life  of  overdoing  politeness.  Besides,  I  have 
heard  of  a  large-footed  Sultan  who  booted  a  Grand 
Vizier  out  of  the  audience  chamber  for  being  too 
obsequious.  I  believe  that  I  can  strike  the  golden 
mean.  If  the  Sultan  only  knew  that  I  was  to  be 
of  the  party  he  would  hurry  up  the  entertain- 
ment. General  Wallace  has  suggested  only  one 
embarrassment  to  my  presentation.  It  is  that  I 
am  a  Democrat,  a  leveler,  a  hater  of  royalty,  and 
that  the  suspicion  of  dynamite  may  attach  to  me 
as  a  member  of  an  explosive  body. 

"What  may  you  not  carry  into  the  august  pres- 
ence ?  Will  you  promise  to  empty  your  pockets 
and  boots  ?  Is  there  anything  dangerous  about 
you  ? " 

I  replied  that  I  had  one  thing  which  I  had  seen 
ruin  many  a  man.  I  had  used  it  with  success.  It 
was  terrific. 

"What  is  it?"  he  exclaimed  in  agitated  tones. 
"In  the  name  of  those  amicable  relations  which 
bind  together  two  nations  with  a  twin  relic  in 
Turkey  and  Utah,  I  demand  to  know." 

"  The  previous    question  !     The  cloture  !  "  , 

"  Great  Allah  !  will  you  dare  to " 

Here  I  am  stopped  by  a  perspiring  courier  from 
General  Wallace,  at  Therapia,  to  inform  me  that 
Tuesday,  at  3  P.  M.,  Frank  time,  is  fixed  for  our 
reception.  I  am  requested  to  get  up  a  crushed 
hat  and  a  swallow-tail.  I  am  all  tremulous  with 
excitement.  I  feel  exalted  in  advance.  The  honors 
I  have  had  in  the  past  all  fade.  I  grow  visibly  in 
altitude.  I  feel  like  the  giant  of  the  Scottish  song : 


I34  FROM  POLE   TO  PYRAMID. 

"  He  wad  upon  his  taes  upstand, 
And  tak  the  stars  down  with  his  hand, 
And  set  them  in  a  gold  garland 
To  deck  his  wifie's  hair  !  " 

My  wife  also  shares  this  intense  excitement. 
Our  trunks  are  being  eagerly  ransacked  for  the 
palest  of  ties  and  the  reddest  of  stockings.  It  is 
too  much. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

RECEPTION  BY  THE  SULTAN. 

This  hidden  Paradise,  this  mine  of  fanes, 
Gardens,  and  palaces,  where  Pleasure  reigns 
In  a  rich,  sunless  empire  of  her  own, 
With  all  earths  luxuries,  lighting  up  her  throne. 

— TOM 'MOORE'S  EPICUREAN. 

WHEN  word  came  to  be  ready  for  presenta- 
tion to  the  Sultan,  there  was  an  unusual 
flutter  around  our  trunks  and  in  our  wardrobe.  It 
was  no  ordinary  occasion.  As  one  of  the  "best 
men,"  in  the  bridal  of  the  Bosphorus  and  the — 
Wabash,  I  determined  to  be  en  regie.  I  had  heard 
of  one  of  our  Secretaries  of  Legation  being  received 
by  Louis  Napoleon  with  marked  distinction  be- 
cause he  had  donned  his  Odd-Fellow  regalia.  I 
knew,  from  reading  Sartor  Resartus,  the  value  of 
toilet.  I  knew  that  the  successor  of  Suleiman  the 
Magnificent  was  a  man  of  choice  tastes,  and  I  re- 
solved to  adorn  for  the  ceremony,  so  that  Indiana 
might  not  blush  for  its  suite.  Nor  did  I  fail  to  re- 
member that  the  Sublime  Ruler  who  was  about  to 
open  his  Porte  to  us  represented  something  more 
than  the  present  Turkish  power  and  Mohammedan 
Caliphate.  Was  he  not  the  successor  of  leaders  of 
armies  against  whom  the  hosts  of  Europe  had  strug- 
gled often  and  in  vain  ?  Had  not  his  predecessors 
lifted  the  crescent  above  the  cross?  Did  not  the 

135 


136 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


blood  of  the  "Thunderbolt"  run,  though  sluggishly, 
in  his  veins  ?  Was  he  not  now  the  pacificator  be- 
tween Christians  contending  for  the  holy  places  ? 
His  fiat,  once  so  potential,  might  it  not  again  arouce 
a  conflict — a  Jehad — at  which  the  world  might  trem- 
ble ?  Was  he  not  the  titular,  if  not  the  actual, 
head  of  nearly  200,000,000  of  one  faith  ? 

Having  hastily  written  a  wish  that  Prof.  Gros- 
venor  might  be  added  to  the  party,  so  as  to  give 
the  flavor  of  the  ancient  classics  to  the  presentation 
in  this  old  Greek  imperial  capital,  I  was  proceeding 
to  lay  out  the  proper  clothing,  when  it  occurred  to 
me  that  my  shoes  were  disreputably  immense,  and 
that  my  Texas  slouched  hat  was  only  fitted  for  the 
boreal  North,  and  unfit  for  the  precincts  of  princes. 
I  needed  a  crushed  hat  and  distingue  pumps.  The 
swallows  had  furnished  me  a  dapper  model  for  the 
cut  of  my  coat,  and  the  thrice  bolted  snows  of 
Sweden  could  not  vie  in  whiteness  with  my  cravat. 
I  knew  that  I  could  borrow  diplomatic  shoes  at  the 
Legation,  but  the  lack  of  a  crushed  hat  gave  me 
trouble.  Summoning  the  guide,  Dionysius,  I  ap- 
pointed him  ambassador  to  a  shopman  who  sold 
and  let  out  fashionable  attire,  as  tailor  to  the  Porte. 
He  responded.  After  much  negotiation,  I  hired  a 
crusher  for  ten  francs.  It  came.  It  was  tried.  It 
had  a  spring  like  a  catamount,  and  a  report  like  a 
Krupp  gun.  Its  size  was  almost  that  of  the  Mos- 
cow bell,  and  it  was  fully  as  metallic.  It  would 
serve  two  purposes,  for  it  could  be  both  fashionable 
and  salutatory. 

Thus  prepared,  we  steamed  up  the  Bosphorus, 
and  arrived  at  the  Legation  a  day  in  advance. 
The  excitement  there  was  enhanced  by  my 
crushed  hat.  General  Wallace  stood  its  fire,  and 


RECEPTION  BY   THE   SULTAN.  137 

the  consul  was  ecstatic  over  its  magnitude.  The 
ladies  were  at  first  timid  when  I  fired  it  off,  but 
they  got  used  to  it  by  the  iteration.  The  waves 
of  the  Bosphorus  seemed  to  be  more  agitated 
than  usual  that  evening.  We  retired  to  rest  in 
feverish  anxiety.  At  six  in  the  morning,  when 
the  golden  light  from  the  Orient  flushed  our  win- 
dows, we  heard  loud  talking  outside  on  the  quay. 
The  voice  of  Mehmet,  the  cavass,  was  dominant. 
What  was  the  matter  ?  Hastily  leaping  from  my 
couch,  I  saw  a  ten-oared  barge  and  its  ten  rowers, 
rising  and  pulling  in  their  rhythmical  movement 
and  sweeping  toward  us  under  the  gesture  and 
command  of  our  excited  cavass.  Mehmet  was 
dressed  in  his  gala  costume,  with  a  loose  jacket*  of 
blue,  embroidered  in  black.  He  had  on  his  fez 
cap,  and  wore  an  immense  red  sash.  The  sash  was 
loaded  with  yataghans  and  pistols,  and  the  corpu- 
lent official  looked  a  very  Falstaff  in  rotundity  and 
bravery. 

Looking  out  toward  the  Euxine,  the  first  object 
that  caught  my  eye  was  a  fleet  of  steamers  and 
ships  awaiting  entrance  at  the  mouth  of  the  Eux- 
ine. I  had  forgotten  the  custom  of  the  empire, 
which  allows  no  entrance  within  the  Bosphorus 
until  after  daylight  and  under  pratique.  Could 
'  they  be  waiting  to  convoy  us  ?  Or  was  it  only  a 
calm  which  had  collected  them  ?  Was  that  calm 
the  ominous  prelude  of  a  tempest  ?  The  Giant 
Mountain  opposite,  which  we  had  ascended  .the 
other  day,  where  Jason  looked  upon  his  promised 
voyage  toward  Colchis,  seems  covered  not  with 
clouds  of  golden  fleece,  but  with  lowering  canopies, 
betokening  flurry  and  storm.  There  is  an  insensi- 
bility to  our  situation  at  Buyukdereh — unworthy  the 


138 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


"  great  powers  "  whose  Ambassadors  there  repose 
— for  the  villas  and  vessels  of  the  embassies  and 
the  palaces  of  the  Princes,  Pashas,  and  Sultanas 
rest  in  soporific  indifference  to  the  forthcoming 
event.  A  heavy  ironclad  is  moored  at  the  base  of 
the  cliff  on  the  opposite  shore.  Its  stack  has  a 
dark  pennon  of  smoke,  but  at  the  fore  it  flies  the 
crescent,  and  we  are  reassured.  Perhaps  it  will 
be  our  convoy. 

If  ever  there  was  a  thing  of  beauty,  it  is  that 
long,  trim,  golden  pinnace  coming  to  convey  us  to 
the  enchanted  chambers  of  oriental  power.  This 
barge  is  the  more  interesting,  for  it  bears  the  flag  of 
my  country.  My  heart  leaps  up,  as  though  it  be- 
held a  rainbow  in  the  sky — for  is  not  our  ensign  born 
of  the  select  and  triple-hued  splendor  of  the  prism  ? 

After  breakfast  a  rehearsal  was  suggested.  It 
was  deemed  impracticable,  as  my  hat  invaded  its 
solemnity  by  going  off  at  the  wrong  time.  The 
shoes  were  obtained.  They  were  too  long  at  the 
toes,  and  left  a  great  vacancy  in  the  heels.  I  do 
not  wish  to  depreciate  the  other  personages,  much 
less  the  Minister,  but  truth  compels  me  to  say  that 
Mehmet  looked  the  Turkish  janizary  of  the  most 
truculent  kind,  and  was  the  most  picturesque  of  the 
group.  Besides,  he  shared  my  anxiety  more  than 
the  others,  for  had  he  not  been  out  upon  the  quay 
since  daylight — seven  hours  in  advance  of  our 
time — watching  for  this  golden  caique?  The  ten 
stalwart  Turks  in  white  dress,  red  jackets  and  caps, 
and  bare  breasts  and  legs,  were  his  obsequious 
servitors.  It  was  a  long  morning  from  breakfast 
to  lunch.  It  was  a  sad  lunch.  There  was  too 
much  anxiety  at  the  board.  It  was  increased  by 
an  explosion  in  the  hall. 


RECEPTION  BY   THE   SULTAN.  !39 

v 

"  Allah  il  Allah  ! "  cried  out  our  soldier  Minister. 
"Your  previous  question  has  gone  off  sponta- 
neously. I  forbid  that  hat.  It  is  only  next  to 
dynamite !  " 

Having  quieted  the  Minister  with  a  glass  of 
Medoc,  and  set  my  hat  anew,  the  lunch  proceeded. 

At  one  we  are  seated  in  the  boat.  We  are  a  pic- 
ture for  an  il-lustrated  magazine.  The  Minister  is  in 
a  Major-General's  uniform,  with  twin  stars  upon  his 
shoulders.  He  holds  a  rich  sword  upon  his  knees. 
His  lips  are  set,  his  will  firm,  his  eye  collected,  his 
form  erect,  his  spectacles  trim,  and  his  nerves  pla- 
cid. He  sits  in  the  post  of  honor  at  the  stern. 
Beneath  him  are  crimson  cushions  and  robes.  He 
glances  proudly  at  the  gilded  eagle  at  our  prow, 
supporting  a  flagstaff  with  our  American  banner. 
The  consul,  Mr.  Heap,  and  his  son  and  myself,  drop 
in  by  his  side,  under  the  awning,  which  flaps  its  scar- 
let scallops  in  the  breezes  of  the  Euxine.  Mehmet 
is  in  the  front,  and  all  is  arranged.  The  order  to 
move  is  given.  The  ladies  in  the  balcony,  smiling 
but  anxious,  wave  their  adieux  with  handkerchief 
and  hand.  In  the  midst  of  the  flurry  my  hat  goes 
off  with  a  report.  This  disconcerts  the  rhythmic 
stroke  of  the  rowers.  They  look  surprised  simply, 
for  the  Turk  never  smiles.  The  ladies  did.  Then 
the  Minister  calls  for  cigarettes,  and  we  compose 
ourselves  for  their  enjoyment.  I  had  taken  the 
precaution  to  provide  a  sufficient  quantity,  know- 
ing their  importance  in  Turkey  and  in  diplomacy. 
We  are  out  in  the  stream.  The  waves  of  this 
classic  stream  carry  ripples  of  pleasure  to  kiss  the 
shore,  where  the  handkerchiefs  still  flutter,  and  the 
shore  or  the  ladies  rippled  and  kissed  their  hands 
in  return ! 


I40  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

St.  George  flies  his  flag  from  the  English  Lega- 
tion, but  there  is  no  dragon  about  its  portals — only 
a  sleepy  dragoman.  The  princely  villas  of  the 
Greeks  who  make  Therapia  their  home  are  in 
summer  repose,  and  seem  to  care  little  for  our 
western  hemisphere,  embodied  in  ourselves.  The 
waters  are  as  lucent  as  though  they  had  never  been 
incarnadined  by  naval  combat.  Passing  the  quiet 
Kalender  and  the  vine-clad  Yeni  Keni,  we  find  our 
prospect  enlarged  by  the  best  harbor  of  the  Bos- 
phorus,  Stenia.  Cypress  groves  follow  us  to  the 
Bay  of  the  Battle  Axe,  where  a  villa  built  by 
Reschid  Pasha,  and  presented  by  him  to  his  daugh- 
ter Fatmeh,  makes  this  prominent  promontory 
regal  in  beauty.  Then  we  run  under  the  grand, 
gloomy,  and  fantastic  towers  of  Hissar,  where, 
beneath  the  shadow  of  the  American  College,  we 
take  on  board  the  Professor.  He  gives  to  our  dis- 
cussion of  the  etiquette,  that  classic  fullness  without 
which  these  receptions  are  tame.  We  pass  Italian 
vessels,  tugged  up  the  stream,  bearing  American 
petroleum.  That  leads  us  to  discuss  our  own 
meagre  commerce.  Our  national  pride  is  at  low  ebb 
as  we  remember  that  we  bear  the  only  American 
flag  in  this  grand  harbor.  Here  earth  has  lent  her 
waters  and  the  air  has  lent  her  breezes  in  vain  for 
us,  and  sail  and  steam  glide  in  ceaseless  interchange 
for  all  nations  but  our  own.  Our  enterprise  at 
home  is  enslaved  with  a  burden  under  which  we 
bend — we,  the  progressive,  inventive  nation  among 
nations  ! 

We  row  by  the  ferry  steamers  of  the  Shirket-i- 
Havrie  Company.  Their  mixed  crowds  open  their 
amazed  eyes  at  our  richly  caparisoned  boat,  with  its 
strange  flag,  its  gayly-attired  canvas,  and  its  Major- 


RECEPTION  BY    THE   SULTAN.  !4I 

General  and  suite.  "Crack!"  goes  my  hat,  and 
the  amazement  becomes  consternation.  Only  for  a 
moment,  and  we  renew  our  cigarettes.  We  pass 
vessels  full  of  melons,  hay,  and  fruits,  floating  down 
with  the  "  devil's  current."  Their  sailors  stop  their 
swaying  motion  to  gaze  at  us.  The.  hat  settles 
them,  and  in  dazed  confusion  they  wonder  what  it* 
all  means.  Not  a  smile  irradiates  their  faces  ;  they 
seem,  after  the  oriental  style,  awed  at  our  imposing 
state. 

We  reach  Arriaut  Keni,  the  Albanian  village 
where  the  stream  narrows.  Crowds  of  Greeks  of 
both  sexes  are  on  the  banks.  They  seem,  like  the 
fool  in  the  fable,  to  be  watching  for  the  river  to  run 
out.  Then  appears  the  village  of  the  "  Dried-up 
Fountain  " — I  forget  its  Turkish  designation.  It 
is  full  of  the  poetry  of  history,  in  which  Medea  and 
Justinian,  Michael  the  Archangel,  and  Simeon  Sty- 
lite  of  the  column,  figure.  What  are  these  dead 
memories  to  our  living  present  ?  Around  the  bend 
above  Ortakeni,  past  the  palace  of  a  sultanic  sis- 
ter, and  about  whom  we  gossip  as  we  glance  at  the 
cemeteries  and  their  cypresses,  the  umbrella  pines 
on  the  hills,  the  curious  costumes  on  the  quay,  the 
pomegranates  and  oleanders  peeping  over  the  walls, 
the  latticed  windows,  and  the  ragged  beggars  be- 
neath, and  then  at  the  palace  of  Cheragan,  where 
Abdul  Aziz  died.  We  listen  to  the  Professor 
rehearse  the  story  of  his  death.  The  time  does 
not  pass  slowly,  for  as  we  move  downward  amid 
the  river  craft  we  have  leisure  for  much  discourse 
on  our  surroundings,  and  about  home  and  the  sad 
events  there  transpiring.  Soon  St.  Sophia  looms 
up  in  majesty  at  the  Seraglio  Point  Stamboul 
looks  gorgeous  in  dome  and  minaret,  appareled  in 


I42  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

celestial  light.  The  Professor  gives  us  of  his  lore 
and  store  appropriate  associations  for  each  object, 
to  which  the  Minister  adds  his  experience  in  New 
Mexico.  I  am  curious  about  the  early  Greek  em- 
pire, and  its  marvels  of  architecture  and  august 
rites  of  religion.  We  talk  of  Chrysostom,  the 
golden-mouthed  preacher  of  St.  Sophia. 

"  Tell  us  of  him  who  outdid  Plato  in  his  larceny 
from  the  Hybla  bees,  and  left  them  honeyless.  What 
was  the  secret  of  his  power?  Whence  the  spell  of 
his  oratory  ?  " 

"  From  my  reading  of  his  works,"  responds  the 
Professor,  "  his  charm  is  in  the  grand  sweep  of  his 
thoughts  as  to  the  shortness,  insignificance,  and 
meagreness  of  our  mortal  life  compared  with  the 
endless  beatific  glory  of  our  immortal  destiny.  This 
was  his  favorite  theme,  and  although  his  language 
is  not  as  opulent  as  the  classic  Greek,  it  has  a  rich- 
ness and  splendor  of  diction  of  its  own  worthy  of 
the  muse  of  Sophocles  and  the  eloquence  of 
Demosthenes." 

We  pass  palace  after  palace  below  the  Towers  of 
Europe.  Then  we  perceive  a  crowd  on  the  marble 
steps  of  the  Dolma-Batchke  palace.  It  is  a  splendid 
picture.  The  palace  is  Corinthian.  The  eye  is 
caught  by  the  towering  mosque.  This  is  our  land- 
ing-place. Near  it  is  the  old  Kiosk  of  the  Melons. 
It  was  once  a  favorite  resort  of  Selim  III.  In  ear- 
lier times  it  was  the  port  of  the  Rhodians.  It 
was  formerly  called  Jasonian,  as  it  was  here  that 
Jason  went  on  shore  with  the  Argonauts.  Our  first 
step,  therefore,  is  on  historic  and  classic  ground. 
Here  was  once  heard  the  jubilant  song  of  the  vic- 
tors after  many  a  naval  strife  ;  and  here,  when  the 
Sultan  Aziz  was  dethroned,  fifty  odd  boat-loads  of 


21* 


RECEPTION  BY   THE   SULTAN. 


'43 


his  women  were  emptied  out  of  the  harem,  but  hap- 
pily housed  at  the  Seraglio.  We  are  received  in  a 
style  worthy  of  the  spot.  We  are  expected.  Amid 
a  bizarre  crowd  of  turbaned  and  fezzed  citizens,  all 
agape  with  grave  curiosity,  and  surrounded  by  some 
handsome  young  men,  who  are  United  States  Con- 
sular and  commercial  agents,  we  discern  the  tall 
form  of  our  Greek  friend,  Mr.  Gadjoula.  His  black 
eyes  are  radiant  with  welcome,  though  his  brow  is 
corrugated  with  anxiety.  He  is  the  United  States 
interpreter.  On  him  we  depend.  He,  too,  has  his 
"crushed  hat."  It  is  safely  moored  under  his  arm. 
I  lift  my  hat  from  over  my  ears,  and  shut  it  up  with 
noiseless  solicitude,  for  there  are  soldiers  and  officials 
around.  They  are  all  smoking  cigarettes.  We  are 
presented  to  an  affable  young  Turk,  Ibrahim  Bey. 
He  is  U  Introducteur  des  Ambassadeurs.  By  his 
side  is  Galib  Bey.  He  is  also  r Introducteur  des 
Ambassadeitrs.  They  were  too  courteous  to  ob- 
serve the  shuffling  gait  of  my  immense  shoes,  but 
the  latter  looked  curiously  at  my  hat.  They  were 
elegant  in  carriage,  men  of  mild  manners,  and  wrore 
new  fez  caps.  They  greet  us  with  suavity  as  we 
land.  Being  only  a  secondary  personage,  I  linger 
with  the  canaille,  firing  a  subdued  feu  de  joie  at  a 
small  Arab  vending  fraudulent  matches.  Not  a 
smile,  only  a  curious,  dazed  expression  radiates 
from  the  juvenile  delinquent. 

We  pass  through  this  grand  gateway  of  the  quay, 
and  out  upon  the  street.  There  our  cavass,  not 
without  difficulty,  mounts  a  spirited  horse.  His 
burly  form  looks  well  upon  a  charger.  We  enter 
gilded  coaches,  driven  by  gold-laced  coachmen,  who 
light  cigarettes.  We  settle  down  to  our  own  cigar- 
ettes. Driving  through  the  long  lanes  and  streets 


144 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


we  pass  under  salutation  of  the  brown-faced  Turkish 
soldiers  at  the  barracks.  This  the  General  returns 
with  easy,  accustomed  grace.  We  pass  eating-houses, 
where  Turks  are  sipping  Mocha  and  smoking  nar- 
ghiles. They  lazily  drop  the  amber  from  their  lips, 
and  languidly  regard  the  unwonted  pageant.  Ven- 
ders stop  their  cries  of  grapes  and  melons,  silks  and 
cigarettes,  to  gaze.  The  rags  under  which  beggars 
sleep  are  stirred  to  liveliness,  as  though  the  fleas 
were  on  a  fresh  raid.  Odalisques  drop  their  muf- 
flers coyly  to  peep,  and  mounted  soldiers  and  offi- 
cers in  French  uniforms,  plus  the  fez,  salute  us  at 
various  points,  where  floats  the  crescent.  We  drive 
between  hot  yellow  walls,  within  which  are  foliage, 
mosques,  minarets,  and  dome,  until  we  are  within 
the  palace  grounds  on  the  hill.  These  precincts 
are  not  romantic,  nor  is  the  palace  Oriental.  It  is 
marble  and  modern.  No  gazelles  are  ambushed 
under  roses  ;  no  fountains  send  their  spray  to  the 
sun.  Some  parterres,  between  graveled  winding 
walks  and  drives,  some  shrubs  and  trees,  not  com- 
parable with  Windsor  or  Peterhof,  and  we  are  in 
front  of  the  gateway  of  the  Sultan's  palace  of  recep- 
tion. Here  we  are  received  by  the  officers  of  the 
day.  We  are  introduced  separately.  My  hat  is 
held  quietly  under  my  arm,  and,  after  some  cigar- 
ettes and  bad  French,  we  are  conducted  over  Turk- 
ish carpeted  marble  pavements  to  a  hall  leading  to 
an  oblong  chamber  of  audience,  lighted  by  windows 
of  ground  glass,  where  a  company  of  dignitaries 
await  us  in  decorous  reserve. 

The  Minister  is  presented  by  our  interpreter  to 
Le  Grand  Maltre  de  Ceremonic.  His  name  is 
Munir  Bey.  He  is  handsome,  large,  and  well-pro- 
portioned, and  his  manner  is  pleasing.  He  in- 


RECEPTION  BY   THE   SULTAN,  145 

quires  after  Aristarchi  Bey,  the  Turkish  Minister 
at  Washington.  When  I  say  that  I  know  him 
well,  he  is  pleased  to  pay  me  special  attention.  I 
take  the  opportunity  to  say  that  no  Minister  is  such 
a  favorite  socially,  and  none  so  sagacious  and  re- 
served diplomatically.  The  Bey  is  pleased  to  hear 
this  of  his  friend  at  our  capital.  He  graciously 
presents  me  to  Le  Premier  Chambellan,  Hamdi 
Pasha,  who  presents  me  to  Le  General  du  Palais 
Imperial,  Ned  jit  Pasha,  who  presents  me,  not 
merely  as  rhomme  d'etat,  but,  by  the  clever  sug- 
gestion of  our  consul,  I  am  presented,  with  the 
sounding  title  of  President  of  the  Foreign  Affairs 
Committee  of  the  American  Chamber  of  Deputies,  to 
Le  Ministre  des  Affaires  Etr anger  es,  Assim  Pasha  ! 
Thus  ascending,  I  approximate  the  apex  of  this  pyra- 
mid of  greatness.  Then  I  take  breath  and  a  cig- 
arette. Rousing  all  my  pet  French  phrases,  I  study 
a  few  compliments,  for  everything  seemed  French. 

Assim  Pasha  is  an  elderly  man.  He  stoops  a  little. 
He  has  silver  hair,  and  not  much  of  that.  Mr. 
Heap,  the  consul,  ever  watchful  over  my  inade- 
quacies and  inexperience  at  court,  points  out,  sit- 
ting on  a  red  divan,  the  hero  of  Plevna,  Osman 
Pasha.  He  is  Minister  of  War.  He  is  built  like 
General  McClellan.  His  face  is  unmistakably  Ori- 
ental. His  eye  is  large,  black,  and  lustrous.  He 
is  an  equable,  handsome  man.  I  caught  his  eye 
upon  me,  and  held  my  hat  with  a  tighter  grip  and 
fumbled  for  a  cigarette. 

"  Would  you  like  to  be  introduced  ?  "  said  the 
consul. 

"  Surely,  it  would  be  a  supreme  delight,"  I  re- 
plied, for  I  was  becoming  superlative  and  Oriental. 
I  was  presented  to  the  hero. 


146  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

"You  have  been  long  here  ?  "  he  asks. 

"  A  month  ago,  waiting  for  this  honor  and  the 
end  of  the  Ramazan." 

"  You  came  by  way  of  England  and  France  from 
America?" 

"  No,  General ;  from  the  North  Cape,  in  the 
Arctic  Ocean,  via  St.  Petersburg  and  Moscow." 

"Ah!  est  ce  que  cest  possible?  You  like  Rus- 
sia?" 

"  I  was  relieved  and  happy  when  I  reached  the 
Sultan's  dominion.  The  Czar's  assassination  casts 
a  gloom  over  that  country.  Strangers  are  feared." 

This  reply  inspired  some  animation.  "  Were 
you  interested  in  Russia  ? "  he  asks  significantly, 
for  he  is  no  lover  of  the  Sclav  whom  he  fought. 

"  After  seeing  the  midnight  sun,  other  objects 
were  not  so  interesting  until  I  came  here." 

Thereupon  Mr.  Heap  came  to  my  help,  and  to 
the  wondering  Pashas  and  Beys  he  made  me  the 
hero  of  the  unsetting  phenomena  of  the  Nord  Cap. 

"Have  you  been  in  Constantinople  before?" 
asked  Munir  Bey. 

"  Oh,  yes,  before  you  were  born,  I  think  ;  for  you 
look  youthful.  Thirty  years  ago,  when  Abdul 
Mejid  was  Sultan,  I  was  here,  and  I  longed  to  re- 
new my  memories." 

There  was  a  little  chorus  of  surprise,  sedately 
expressed  as  only  Turks  can  express  it,  and  another 
fusillade  of  questions.  "  Have  you  found  any 
changes?"  "Are  we  progressing?"  "What  do 
you  see  different  ?  "  "  Do  we  move  with  the  age  ? " 
"  How  do  Americans  regard  us  ? "  To  which  I 
gave  reply  that  I  found  now  convenient  steamers, 
an  underground  railway,  tramways  and  railroads, 
newspapers  in  a  half  dozen  tongues,  steam  and 


RECEPTION  BY   THE   SULTAN.  147 

light,  better  streets,  and  sumptuous  villas.  "  True, 
the  Seraglio  palace  is  no  longer  here,  but  your  pal- 
ace crowns  the  hill.  You  have  had  a  great  war, 
and  we  find  more  courtesy  and  tolerance  of  stran- 
gers. We  visit  St.  Sophia  and  other  mosques  with 
comparative  freedom.  No,  you  are  not  behind 
many  other  nations  in  the  race  of  improvement." 
All  which  seems  to  give  pleasure  to  the  listeners. 
I  begin  to  feel  that  I  am  an  old  and  familiar  friend 
of  the  family.  I  describe  the  former  Sultan,  as  I 
saw  him  in  a  grand  parade  on  the  fourth  of  July, 
1851,  and  Munir  Bey  promises  to  show  me  his 
portrait  on  horseback  in  the  palace.  Then  we  take 
cigarettes.  Before  they  are  ashes,  liveried  Nubian 
servants  —  in  red  coats,  gold-laced,  blue  plush 
trousers  and  gold  stripes  down  the  sides — appear. 
They  bear  the  daintiest  porcelain  cups  ever  fairy 
conceived  or  Dresden  fabricated. 

They  are  truly  aesthetic,  and  crusted  with  dia- 
monds. We  long  to  carry  one  home,  not  for  the 
gems — oh,  no  !  but  for  the  artistic  beauty.  No 
sooner  does  the  surreptitious  thought  enter  the 
mind  than  the  servants  gather  them  up.  We  then 
form  in  line,  behind  the  Minister,  and  under  escort 
proceed  up  the  staircase  to  the  audience  chamber. 
We  pass  up  between  soldiers,  fine  large  Circassians, 
in  their  native  array,  who  look  at  us  impassively. 
African  eunuchs,  in  strange  contrast  with  the 
Circassians,  in  rich  attire,  stand  like  statues  upon 
the  steps.  Officers  with  side-arms  and  soldiers 
with  rifles  are  in  waiting.  We  halt  a  moment 
at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  and,  looking  within 
through  a  large  chamber,  perceive  in  the  grand 
salon  before  us,  a  well-made  man  of  medium  size,  and 
of  serene,  almost  melancholy,  aspect.  He  stands 


148 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


alone.  He  wears  a  blue  uniform,  or  frock-coat,  with 
the  inevitable  fez.  He  holds  a  sword — hardly  a 
sci miter,  though  it  curves — of  golden  sheath  and 
jeweled  hilt.  It  rests  upon  his  patent  leather 
shoes.  A  rich  sash  is  over  his  shoulder.  It  is 
green,  for  green  is  the  Mohammedan  color.  It  is 
the  symbol,  I  suppose,  of  the  growing,  fadeless 'Cal- 
iphate. We  approach  in  due  order,  gallanted  by  the 
Ministers,  and  make  a  formal  bow.  Our  suite  form 
a  crescent  around  the  Sultan,  with  Major-General 
Wallace  with  his  two  stars  in  the  concave.  Next 
to  him  on  the  left  is  Assim  Pasha,  and  on  the  right 
the  interpreter,  his  hat  still  secure.  After  several 
rather  elaborate  bows  from  the  Sultan's  officers,  we 
await  events.  The  Sultan  raises  his  dreamy,  lan- 
guid, thoughtful  eyes,  and  his  sallow  face  lights  up 
a  little.  Then  the  confabulation  begins. 

There  is  an  austerity  of  dread,  a  painful  hush,  as 
the  Foreign  Affairs  Minister,  in  low,  husky  tones, 
announces  the  function  and  purpose  of  the  visit. 
General  Wallace  catches  the  solemn  spirit  of  the 
scene,  and,  subdued  to  the  oriental  quality,  makes, 
in  low  tones,  proper  reference  to  his  predecessor, 
and  in  the  name  of  the  people  of  the  United  States, 
with  an  emphasis  prepense  on  "the  people"  which 
made  me  grasp  my  hat,  expressed  their  desire  for 
the  good  relations  that  had  always  existed  between 
the  two  nations,  and  which  he  would  endeavor  to 
strengthen.  The  Sultan  drops  his  impassive  eye, 
with  now  and  then  a  sidelong  glance  at  us  in  turn. 
I  take  this  opportunity,  without  discourteous  curi- 
osity, to  look  about  the  large  chamber.  A  dim 
light  enters  it  from  the  east.  The  Sultan  has  his 
back  towards  Asia.  The  group  is  interesting.  The 
atmosphere  is  one  of  funereal  quietude.  The  gods 


RECEPTION  BY   THE   SULTAN.  14g 

* 

are  shod  with  wool ;  so  are  sultanic  servitors. 
Neither  the  dresses  nor  the  movements  and 
speeches  are  loud  ;  quite  and  painfully  otherwise. 
It  is  pomp,  but  pomp  in  unassuming  display. 
The  scene  is  not  ornate  nor  Oriental.  There  are 
no  trellis  nor  lattice  casements,  no  tapestry  nor 
ottomans,  and  no  exuberant  nor  vulgar  signs  of 
luxury.  No  crystal  jets  shake  their  "lessening  sil- 
ver in  the  sun,"  and  there  are  no  arabesques  nor 
fantastic  imagery.  The  surroundings  are  as  simple 
as  the  audience  is  decorous.  No  groveling  obei- 
sance is  demonstrated.  A  few  pictures  decorate 
the  walls.  They  represent  Bedouin  chiefs  in  the 
desert,  pictures  of  local  color,  all  but  one,  which 
rivets  my  eye.  Unless  I  am  in  error,  this  picture 
on  my  left  is  that  of  the  midnight  sun,  with  its 
languishing  light,  hanging  over  the  hazy  horizon 
at  Nord  Cap  !  Then  I  thought  of  the  verse  of  the 
American  moralist : 

"  The  bark  of  tempest,  vainly  tossed, 

May  founder  in  the  calm, 
And  he  who  braves  the  polar  frost 
Faints  by  the  isles  of  palm.1' 

Although  a  polar  navigator,  I  felt  the  calm  in- 
fluence ;  and,  comparing  the  situation  with  the 
bleak  and  desolate  scenery  which  we  had  so  re- 
cently viewed  as  thus  pictured  on  the  wall,  I  felt 
the  contrasts  of  our  summer  voyaging. 

I  am  recalled  from  my  reverie  by  reflecting  upon 
the  power  of  the  Sultan.  He  is  a  man  of  calm  dig- 
nity and  superior  intelligence.  Mohammed  II.,  the 
grand  progenitor  of  this  line,  who  took  the  city 
from  the  effete  Greeks,  may  have  had  more  elan, 
as  he  had  a  larger  army,  but  he  had  no  more 


JKO  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

reserve  in  his  eye  than  his  descendant  before 
us.  Was  he  not  administering,  amid  troubles  for 
which  he  is  not  responsible,  a  great  empire  of  va- 
rious nationalities  and  religion,  and  under  manifold 
embarrassments?  By  his  illustrious  descent  and 
inborn  dignity,  by  his  position  as  the  heir  of  the 
Othmans,  Amoraths,  and  Suleimans,  he  receives, 
as  the  oriental  chief  should,  that  Occident  which 
has  never  encroached  upon  his  prerogative  or  do- 
main, and  has  no  inclination  nor  object  in  doing  so. 

I  confess  to  an  enthusiasm  for  this  monarch.  He 
is  a  king,  every  inch,  and  without  any  dramatic 
ostentation  ;  for  I  learn  from  our  consul  that  he 
deserves  great  regard  for  his  rare  ability.  He  is 
his  own  adviser.  Amid  the  troubles  and  care 
growing  out  of  the  equivocal  death  of  his  prede- 
cessor, and  with  the  populations  of  divers  religions 
and  races  which  he  must  reconcile  to  rule,  he  is 
not  unworthy  of  the  fame  of  Abdul  Mejid,  whose 
memory  is  to  me  apart  of  my  earliest  association  in 
this  city,  whose  praises  then  were  on  every  tongue. 

After  the  translation  into  the  vernacular  of  the 
Minister's  speech,  and  when  it  was  expected  the 
ceremony  was  done,  General  Wallace  broke  through 
the  formal  etiquette,  and,  stating  that  it  was  a  cus- 
tom of  his  country,  and  a  sign  of  cordiality,  ten- 
dered his  hand.  The  Sultan  timidly,  but  blandly, 
breaks  his  reserve,  and  cordially  replies.  This 
reply  is  translated,  when,  in  the  same  subdued 
whisper,  and  with  much  emotion,  he  asks  the  Min- 
ister the  latest  news  of  President  Garfield's  condi- 
tion. The  Minister  remarks  that  the  news  is  bet- 
ter, but  not  encouraging.  This  episode  engenders 
a  human  sympathy,  and  then  we  are  in  turn  pre- 
sented. I  am  denominated,  in  French  phrase,  a 


RECEPTION  BY   THE   SULTAN.  IS! 

"statesman,"  and  my  face  assumes  the  color  of  the 
Sultan's  fez.  We  have  no  elaborate,  theatrical 
bowing.  The  only  one  who  seems  to  be  spe- 
cially Oriental  in  his  salaam  is  Murid  Bey.  He 
bows  quite  low,  and  with  singular  grace,  his  hand 
to  his  head,  breast,  and  lip,  signifying  that  his 
mind,  heart,  and  speech  were  complaisant ;  but 
even  he  is  not  obsequious.  Securing  my  hat  and 
guarding  my  shoes,  and  without  special  trouble,  I 
back  out  of  the  presence  with  the  rest,  and  return 
to  the  salon  below.  There  sherbet  is  served,  with 
cigarettes. 

Then  we  are  conducted  back  to  one  of  the  rooms 
above,  where  the  pictures  on  the  walls  are  shown 
and  described.  Three  portraits  are  eminent  in 
their  attraction.  One  is  that  of  Abdul  Mejid. 
He  was  the  son  of  Mahmoud  II.  He  died  in 
1 86 1,  and  much  virtue  was  entombed  with  him. 
Another  is  that  of  his  brother,  the  unfortunate 
Abdul  Aziz,  who  was  deposed  in  1876,  and  lived 
in  utter  retiracy.  The  other  is  that  of  the  present 
Sultan,  Abdul  Hamid  II.,  whose  presence  we 
have  just  left,  the  successor  of  a  thousand  years 
of  domination,  illustrated  by  more  moderation  and 
tolerance  than  the  outside  world  is  apt  to  believe. 

The  picture  of  Abdul  Mejid  represents  him  on 
an  Arab  steed,  whereat  we  are  entranced.  We 
indulge  in  equestrian  talk.  Murid  Bey  asks  after 
American  horses. 

"You  are  fond  of  horses  in  America?"  he  asks. 

"  Our  finest  horses  are  proud  of  their  pedigree 
from  the  famous  steeds  of  the  desert,  and  we  are 
endeavoring,  by  the  aid  of  their  high  lineage  and 
blood,  to  make  our  horses  win  the  prizes  of  the 
world." 


,52  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

"You  have  won  in  France  and  England,"  he 
replied. 

I  never  felt  any  special  pride  in  the  American 
racers.  The  human  race,  not  the  horse  race,  is  my 
study  ;  but  a  glow  comes  over  my  face  as  the 
Occident  and  Orient  here  again  meet  in  mutual 
gratulation.  Then  Murid  Bey  asks  after  the  Arab 
horses  presented  by  the  Sultan  to  General  Grant, 
as  to  which  I  was  nonplussed,  not  having  had  the 
run  of  the  General's  paddock. 

Then  we  turn  to  the  likeness  of  the  unfortunate 
Aziz,  the  late  Sultan.  The  white  horse  which 
bears  him  is  a  superb  animal,  worthy  of  Wouver- 
man's  pencil. 

Murid  Bey  says  :  "  He  is  alive  still." 

"Who?"  said  I,  in  surprise;  "the  Sultan?" 
That  was  my  first  lapse  from  the  courtesies,  for  not 
a  word  had  been  uttered  about  the  Sultan  Aziz  or 
his  woful  fate. 

"The  horse,"  replied  Murid  Bey;  "he  is  still 
alive.  He  is  the  pride  of  the  stables." 

I  look  again  at  the  steed.  It  was  from  life.  It 
was  portrayed  with  thin  nostril,  eyes  like  embers, 
and  mane  flowing  like  the  ethereal  hair  of  a  Murillo 
Madonna.  The  Sultan  sits  upon  him  like  a  cen- 
taur, proud  of  his  mastery  of  the  noble  animal. 
The  steed  curvets  under  a  shaking  bit  with  sidelong 
pace.  I  think  of  Job's  war-horse,  and  then  we  are 
called  to  cigarettes  again.  Now  we  saunter  around, 
and,  after  lingering  a  few  minutes  longer,  descend 
to  the  open  air.  Here,  bidding  farewell  to  our  polite 
hosts,  we  return  to  our  carriages  and  to  the  quay. 

The  windows  of  the  villas  on  the  Asiatic  shore 
are  blazing  like  burnished  gold  under  the  sunset. 
The  Bosphorus  is  alive  on  bank  and  stream  with 


RECEPTION  BY   THE    SULTAN. 


153 


the  throngs,  who  seem  to  revel  in  the  serenest  of 
evenings.  Our  ladies  have  promenaded  down  the 
shore  to  meet  us  on  our  return.  The  hat  does  its 
final  duty  in  salutation,  and  we  receive  them  in 
our  caique.  Returning  to  the  Legation,  we  dine  in 
sumptuous  glee,  and  live  over  again  our  gala  day. 

Was  there  a  surcease  of  these  delightful  and 
novel  experiences  in  sleep  ?  No.  Such  spells,  we 
are  told,  haunt  eye  and  ear,  mix  with  our  dreams, 
and  form  our  atmosphere.  Such  pleasures  are  not 
like  poppies  spread,  for  when  you  see  the  flower 
the  fragrance  is  not  shed. 

Under  the  influence  of  an  anodyne  it  is  said  that 
Coleridge  fell  asleep,  after  reading  "  Purchas's  Pil- 
grimage "  about  the  palace  of  Kublai-Khan,  and 
dreamed  out  as  a  phantom  architect  his  pleasure 
dome.  I,  too,  had  my  dream.  It  was  more  har- 
monious and  congruous  than  that  of  the  drugged 
poet.  In  my  serni-slumbers,  half  dozing  till  morn-- 
ing, half  listening  to  the  lapse  and  relapse  of  the 
waters  below  our  balcony,  and  with  the  strange 
scenes,  where  eunuchs  and  Circassians,  Ministers 
and  Sultans,  in  chambers  of  arched  beauty,  sipped 
Mocha  from  tiny  cups  of  jeweled  beauty,  I  had 
the  psychological  experience  of  the  dreamful 
poet,  constructing  out  of  my  own  consciousness  a 
pleasure  dome  where  sacred  rivers  ran  through 
caverns  measureless  to  man  down  by  a  sunless  sea. 
Each  gale  wafted  Idumean  fragrance  of  incense- 
bearing  trees  in  sunny  spots  of  greenery,  and  dam- 
sels with  dulcimers  sung  of  Mount  Abora  and  other 
heavenly  heights,  until  I  awoke  to  break  my  fast 
on  something  more  substantial  than  honey  dew, 
and  to  drink  something  more  stimulating  than  the 
milk  of  paradise. 

VOL.  II. — 7* 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

CONSTANTINOPLE— OTHER   CHANGES    IN    THIRTY    YEARS. 

Magic  casements  opening  on  the  foam 

Of  perilous  seas  in  fairy  lands  forlorn. — KEATS. 

BEFORE  we  sail  hence,  let  me  record  some 
of  the  salient  points,  changes,  and  customs 
which,  after  a  lapse  of  thirty  years,  have  struck  me 
as  worthy  of  written  observation.  One  may  tire 
of  these  costumes  and  streets,  dogs  and  dirt,  cries 
and  mosques  ;  but  one  can  never  tire  of  the  cool 
midsummer  breezes  of  these  waters,  nor  of  the  sa- 
lubrious delights  of  these  hilly  and  historic  shores. 
A  month's  sojourn  here  during  the  hot  season,  and 
awaiting  the  fall  months  for  our  Judean  travel,  has 
not  made  stale  the  supreme  delight  which  we  have 
enjoyed  in  these  scenes.  The  excursion  up  and 
down  the  Bosphorus,  from  the  bridge  of  the  Golden 
Horn  to  the  opening  of  the  Black  Sea,  is  some 
fifteen  miles.  It  never  fails  to  give  solace  and  de- 
light. Certainly,  it  is  a  benison  in  answer  to  the 
prayerful  and  heated  mind  and  body.  Besides, 
with  its  landings — some  seventeen  up  and  as 
many  down — it  affords  the  stranger  a  chance  to 
observe  the  influx  and  outgo  of  the  many-raced 
people  who  use  it  for  recreation  and  business. 
Priest  and  soldier,  dervish  and  officer,  Frank  and 
Greek — Greek  in  native  costume  and  in  the  French 

154 


OTHER    CHANGES   IN    THIRTY    YEARS. 


155 


style — Armenians  in  plenty,  and  Circassians,  some 
in  black  and  white  sheepskins,  and  some  in  both, 
and  every  other  nation  here,  meet  and  move  on 
this  river,  and  with  them  the  women,  and  then  the 
large-eyed  children,  innocent  of  veil  and  happy  to 
breathe  the  fresh  air  of  the  running  water.  After 
you  pass  the  old  warehouse,  where  a  sign  can  just 
be  deciphered — "Jason  Coal  Wharf"-— the  ladies 
of  the  palaces  and  villas,  accompanied  by  their 
eunuchs  and  children,'  begin  to  deck  the  dock  with 
their  "  Turkey  red "  silk ;  and  the  fashionable 
Broussa  women,  in  motley  as  their  only  wear,  ap- 
pear now  and  then  accompanied  with  slaves,  whose 
faces  are  hid  by  dark-figured  gauze  veils,  and 
others  whose  dark  faces  need  no  veil.  This  ferry 
company  has  its  thirty-five  boats,  which  make  sev- 
enteen trips  a  day.  They  charge  twenty-two  cents 
a  trip  up,  and  as  much  down  the  river.  If  they 
make  six  hundred  double  trips,  at  that  rate,  there 
is  a  gross  receipt  of  $2,400  per  day. 

There  is  a  fine  margin  for  dividends,  and  these 
dividends,  as  it  is  said,  go  to  the  palace,  where  the 
stock  is  owned,  if  not  by  the  Sultan,  by  his  pet 
pashas  and  their  eunuchs. 

It  is  wonderful  how  the  prejudices  of  race  here 
are  worn  off  and  out.  The  eunuchs  are  all  black 
as  night,  and  as  cunning  as  Satan.  The  other 
blacks  which  we  see  on  the  street  and  river  mix  in 
perfect  equality  with  the  white  and  brown  of  every 
kind  and  station.  They  compose  the  merchants 
and  servants,  soldiers  and  citizens  ;  and  seem  to  be 
perfectly  content  thus  to  mix  with  their  brown-faced 
brothers  and  fair-faced  sisters.  Where  do  so  many 
Africans  come  from  ?  The  slave  market,  they  say, 
is  no  more,  either  for  black  or  white  slaves.  They 


,56  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

say  so,  but  I  do  not  believe  it,  as  I  know  of  a  Turk- 
ish editor  who  recently  lost  his  wife,  and  who  said 
that  he  knew  how  and  where  he  could  go  to  market 
for  another.  This  secrecy  of  the  slave-trade  is  one 
sign  of  progress. 

Speaking  of  the  Turkish  ladies,  a  lady  friend 
gave  a  curious  experience  of  her  own.  She  was  on 
the  boat  going  up  the  Bosphorus,  and  was  seated 
near  the  curtain  which  always  divides  a  certain 
portion  of  the  boat  in  the  rear  from  the  other  and 
more  public  part.  This  division  is  for  the  Turkish 
ladies  more  particularly.  An  English  lady  came 
in,  and  carefully  placed  her  basket  by  her  side. 
Soon  an  old  Turkish  woman  entered,  and,  as  the 
boat  was  crowded,  she  took  a  seat  on  the  basket. 
As  my  friend  knew  some  Turkish,  she  tried  to  aid 
the  stranger  in  protecting  her  property  from  being 
crushed.  This  enraged  the  Turkish  woman.  She 
turned  upon  the  lady  with  great  venom,  and,  seizing 
the  arm  with  her  teeth,  bit  it  most  painfully,  scold- 
ing loudly  between  times.  As  all  this  was  going 
on  behind  the  curtain,  no  one  could  see  what  was 
the  matter.  It  created  a  scene.  And  then,  greatly 
to  their  amusement,  the  old  virago  reached  out 
under  the  curtain  for  a  renewed  attack,  but  the  lady 
had  drawn  her  feet  up  on  the  seat  out  of  reach  of 
the  prowling  fingers.  A  Turkish  lady  mildly  pro- 
tested against  the  proceeding  ;  but,  as  she  said  after- 
ward to  my  friend,  "  I  saw  it  was  of  no  use  ; — the 
truth  is,  our  days  of  fasting  in  Ramazan  makes 
Turkish  people  cross  and  inflammable ;  but  I  sym- 
pathize with  you,  and  you  were  quite  right  in  all 
you  did."  Indeed,  we  were  told  that  Ramazan 
was  not  a  good  time  to  visit  the  bazaars — Turkish 
merchants  were  not  so  affable  then. 


OTHER   CHANGES  IN   THIRTY    YEARS,  I57 

In  Spain  they  put  wine  in  pigskins.  Here  the 
water  is  carried  about  in  them,  and  the  ugly  porker 
sweats  outside  as  he  lies  on  the  pack-saddle  of  the 
porter.  He  looks,  as  some  one  well  describes  him 
—like  a  hog  that  had  been  drowned  and  bloated. 
Here  water  is  a  general  beverage,  and  liquors  the 
exception.  As  there  are  no  carts  or  drays,  all ' 
articles  about  town,  including  bricks  and  stone,  are 
carried  over  the  slim  backs  of  donkeys  and  horses. 
Donkeys  and  men  do  most  of  the  hard  work,  and 
do  it  well,  considering  the  uphill  work,  narrow 
thoroughfares,  and  impeding  dogs.  The  dogs  are 
not  so  much  of  a  nuisance  by  day  as  by  night.  A 
strange  dog  out  of  his  bailiwick  gives  rise,  at  night 
or  day,  to  a  mob  of  other  dogs,  and  a  concerted 
howl,  which  is  most  hideous  by  night.  Yet  these 
dogs  are  not  very  troublesome  to  those  who  leave 
them  alone.  True,  they  have  no  owners,  except 
the  public,  and  lie  in  your  path,  asleep,  but  gentle. 
It  is  a  pity  to  arouse  them.  I  always  walk  around 
them  with  reverential  awe.  They  have  a  wolfish 
look  when  aroused,  but  they  are  not  any  worse  than 
the  human  race  when  undisturbed.  This  congre- 
gation of  sacred  dogs  has  not  been  much  lessened 
with  time.  One  of  the  consequences  of  their  num- 
ber and  scavenger  trade  is  that  they  generate  what 
Mark  Twain,  when  writing  of  Switzerland,  calls 
chamois  !  Some  one  has  said  that  the  chamois  is 
a  good  illustration  of  ratiocination,  while  the  eagle 
is  of  "  imagination  all  compact."  The  chamois 
climbs  step  by  step  to  the  height  of  some  great 
Alpine  argument ;  while  the  eagle,  with  a  grand 
swoop,  pounces  downward  from  his  eyrie.  The 
Eastern  flea  combines  ratiocination  with  imagina- 
tion. 


j^8  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

The  dogs  of  Turkey  generate  both.  When  they 
are  in  active  exercise  they  give  abnormal  activity 
to  those  in  pursuit.  Oriental  experience  is  dead 
and  dull  without  fleas.  No  locality  is  free  from 
them.  They  sit  on  the  pillar  of  Theodosius  in 
the  Seraglio  gardens,  and,  like  Simeon  the  Stylite, 
have  a  penitential  pillar  of  their  own  elsewhere  ; 
they  prowl  about  the  Ambapadus  at  the  Seven 
Towers  ;  they  penetrate  the  palaces  of  the  Sultan 
and  the  hollow  tree  of  the  hermit  at  the  Hippo- 
drome. You  perceive  a  beautiful  odalisque  at 
her  lattice,  looking  down  at  the  Bosphorus  through 
her  yashmak.  She  suddenly  disappears.  Ah ! 
why  ?  You  see  a  devout  dervish  whirling,  and 
with  eyes  shut  and  clothes  making  a  periphery. 
All  at  once  his  whirl  is  accelerated.  Ah  !  why  ? 
You  dine  at  table  d ' hote,  with  a  select  company, 
like  that  at  our  hotel,  where  we  have  princes, 
marquises,  counts,  admirals,  bankers,  and  ministers  ; 
but  there  is  a  restlessness  among  them.  Diners 
leave  the  table  prematurely  and  suddenly.  Ah  ! 
why  ? 

"  What  good  are  fleas,  anyhow  ?  "  I  asked  of  a 
learned  man. 

'  To  make  this  Eastern  folk,  who  are  disposed 
to  be  lazy,  industrious,"  he  replied. 

"You  know,"  said  a  friend  yesterday,  "that  na- 
ture has  its  compensations.  How  happy  is  that 
revelation  of  the  microscope  which  shows  us  that 
the  activity  of  the  flea  is  partly  caused  by  the  para- 
sites which  live  upon  its  body."  Science  is  con- 
sol  in  of. 

f      o 

The  watchmen  who  go  about  the  city  are  heard 
from  in  the  night.  They  are  dressed  in  light 
clothes,  wear  a  turban,  and  have  a  heavy  stick,  with 


OTHER    CHANGES  IN    THIRTY    YEARS. 


159 


iron  at  the  end.  With  this  they  strike  the  stone 
of  the  pave  till  it  rings.  Thus  they  go  the  rounds 
and  make  their  presence  known.  Sometimes  a 
series  of  metallic  raps  indicate  trouble  or  fire. 
The  watchmen  of  Dogberry  are  not  yet  obsolete. 
We  saw  them,  with  lantern  and  staff,  crying  the 
hours  and  the  weather,  in  Southern  Spain.  In 
Norway  they  exist  not  to  apprehend  "  vagrom 
men,"  but  to  watch  for  fires,  and  because  of  old 
custom.  The  voegter  of  Norway  carries  a  morning 
star, — hot  literally,  but  that  is  the  name  of  his  long, 
knobbed,  and  spiked  staff.  They  are  pious.  They 
chant  rhymes  in  the  night.  If  the  night  be  many 
months,  it  is  quite  a  drain  upon  inspiration.  This 
is  the  way  some  of  their  verses  sound  :  "  Ho  ! 
Clock  struck  nine  !  Praise  the  Lord  !  The  night 
is  fine  !  Wife  and  maid  !  go  to  bed  !  Master  and 
lad  !  Don't  be  bad  !  Wind  is  west ;  do  your 
best!  Say  your  prayer!  Hallelujah!  Lovet  vo- 
ere  Gud  vor  Herre  /  "  The  Turkish  guardian  is 
not  so  poetic,  but  he  is  just  as  noisy. 

We  heard  a  watchman  last  night  not  only  cry  out 
something  alarming  in  loud  Turkish,  that  rang  in 
and  through  the  narrow  streets  below  our  window, 
but  he  rapped  until  the  night  became  hideous,  for 
the  dogs  took  it  up,  and  made  this  ancient  capital 
howl.  It  was  a  fire.  The  Sultan's  stables  burned 
up,  and  some  of  his  splendid  stud.  The  light  shone 
into  our  window,  and  made,  with  the  moon  on  the 
river,  a  pretty  antagonism  of  firelight  and  moon- 
light, with  shadows  to  match. 

Fires  here  are  of  frequent  occurrence,  and  very 
destructive/  Watchmen  are  stationed  day  and  night 
on  Galata  and  Seraskier  towers,  in  Pera  and  Stam- 
boul ;  while  a  high  hill  below  Kaudili,  on  the  Asiatic 


!5o  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

side  of  the  Bosphorus,  serves  the  same  purpose  for 
that  division.  At  this  latter  place  cannon  are  fired 
to  indicate  the  location  of  the  fire,  and  a  red  balloon 
lighted  within  is  raised  to  the  flagstaff.  At  the 
towers  of  Galata  and  Stamboul  colored  flags  are 
hoisted,  while  waiting  firemen,  fast  runners,  are 
despatched  in  all  directions,  informing  the  regular 
watch  and  crying  the  quarter  in  which  it  occurs. 
How  easily  a  few  clicks  of  the  telegraph  would  ob- 
viate these  devices.  The  engines  are  small  boxes. 
Each  one  is  carried  on  the  shoulders  of  four  men, 
who  run,  crying  "  Fire  ! "  When  they  arrive  at  the 
place,  they  wait  to  be  employed  by  people  whose 
houses  are  in  danger.  Another  set  of  firemen  are 
soldiers.  These  are  armed  with  axes  and  long 
poles  with  iron  hooks.  They  tear  down  the  wooden 
houses,  and  so  isolate  the  fire.  The  fire  engineers, 
who  are  paid,  enjoy  special  privileges.  The  narrow- 
ness of  the  streets  and  the  combustible  material  of 
the  houses  are  the  causes  of  these  frequent  fires ; 
but  it  has  become  customary  now  to  widen  the 
street  after  every  fire,  and  to  rebuild  with  stone. 
After  every  fire  there  is  a  change  of  street.  Thus 
we  have  found  in  Pera  and  Stamboul  quite  an  im- 
provement made  by  the  aid  of  conflagration  ;  but 
there  is  abundant  room  for  more  fires. 

What  an  immense  mausoleum  of  the  past  are 
these  hills  and  mountains  !  What  a  museum  could 
here  be  collected  to  illustrate  these  generations  of 
moving  millions  along  these  shores.  The  Turks 
have  an  archaeological  museum  at  Constantinople, 
which  we  visited.  It  might  well  be  thought  that 
Turkey,  having  dominion  over  so  many  ancient 
lands,  would  have  a  splendid  collection  of  antiqui- 
ties ;  but  richer  and  more  curious  nations  have  the 


OTHER   CHANGES  IN   THIRTY    YEARS.  j6i 

best  of  the  Assyrian  and  Greek  disinterments. 
Just  now  Hormuzd  Rassam — who  has  been  thirty 
years  digging  about  Assyria  for  the  British  Mu- 
seum, and  who  has  not  limited  himself  to  Babylon 
—has  scoured  the  whole  Tigro-Euphratean  under- 
country,  with  wonderful  results.  These  are  just 
being  made  known.  Other  wonders  are  coming  to 
light.  It  is  an  era  of  archaeology  here  and  here- 
abouts, and  although  this  museum  is  a  poor  speci- 
men, it  is  a  beginning  in  a  good  location.  There 
is  a  big  Assyrian  god  of  hideous  aspect  upon  its 
porch,  and  plenty  of  Grecian  torsos  and  Roman 
emperors  and  broken  things  inside  and  about. 
Dionysius,  our  guide,  takes  us  by  the  hand,  with  a 
solemn  mien,  and  points  to  a  tomb,  within  whose 
marble  case  are  the  bas-reliefs  of  two  persons,  and 
the  inscription  in  Greek  says  that  these  are  Dio- 
nysius and  his  wife.  He  has  lines  of  anger  upon  his 
face,  while  I  may  say  for  her,  after  two  thousand 
years,  that,  without  fear  of  her  deceased  lord  and 
master — 

"  Ne'er  did  Grecian  chisel  trace 
A  nymph,  a  naiad,  or  a  grace 
Of  fairer  form  or  lovelier  face." 

We  had  some  pleasantry  at  the  passionate  as- 
pect of  Dionysius,  in  which  the  attendant,  who 
knew  our  guide's  name,  joined.  We  had  our  fun  in 
time,  as  the  Irishman  said  about  getting  in  his 
playfulness  at  the  bull  in  the  pasture  before  he 
landed  over  the  hedge;  for  I  had  no  sooner  pro- 
ceeded to  sketch  a  little  mummy  in  a  glass  case, 
with  its  swelled  head  and  cracked  skull,  old  rags 
and  funny  eyes,  plastered  with  white,  before  in 
rushed  the  outside  warder,  and  without  either  dig- 
nity or  sense  ordered  me  to  quit  making  images 


!62  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

and  to  destroy  what  I  had  made !  Well,  as  this 
was  only  an  aesthetic  exercise,  and  not  in  a  holy 
place,  and  as  I  had  violated  no  rule  of  Mohammed 
or  the  Koran,  I  held  on  to  my  sketch. 

The  horses  here  are  small,  but  lively.  They 
have  not  degenerated,  but  they  are  spirited,  for  a 
reason  not  necessary  to  write.  There  are  fifty  car- 
nages here  now,  where  there  used  to  be  one  ;  but 
there  is  not  a  very  great  improvement  in  the 
streets.  The  ride  over  these  pavements  is  worse 
than  over  our  pioneer  corduroy  roads.  Every 
street  has  its  shops.  Those  in  the  bazaars  are  open, 
so  that  all  a  man  has  in  his  shop  can  be  seen  at  a 
glance.  In  the  bazaars  the  merchants  sit  cross- 
legged,  and,  when  not  too  busy,  smoke  their  nar- 
ghile, chibouque,  or  cigarette.  The  last  is  smoked 
by  everybody,  old  and  young,  from  the  Sultan 
down.  Every  one  is  privileged  to  ask  another  to 
light  his  cigarette.  I  have  illumined  a  dozen  times 
those  of  boat-hands  and  pashas.  The  hamals, 
or  porters,  who  bear  burdens  six  hundred  pounds 
or  more,  on  their  backs  or  on  poles — or  those 
who  drive  donkeys,  loaded  with  wood,  panniers, 
stone,  brick,  or  vegetables — are  always  smoking. 
They  will  stop  to  wipe  their  sweat  and  light  a  cig- 
arette. They  will  stop  any  one  in  the  street  for 
this  comfort,  which  allays  so  much  of  their  discom- 
fort. The  women  also  smoke,  in  and  out  of  the 
harem.  In  the  apartments  on  the  steamers  set 
apart  for  them,  there  arises  a  cloud  of  fragrant 
incense. 

The  street-criers  are  harsh  and  loud.  These 
men  bear  candies,  grapes,  coffee,  cakes,  meats, 
goods,  wares,  etc.,  upon  their  heads,  and  with  them 
they  tread  the  narrow,  uneven  streets  with  light 


OTHER   CHANGES  IN   THIRTY    YEARS.  ^3 

step.  This  custom  makes  the  men  straight  and 
their  walk  handsome.  No  better  walkers — "  as- 
you-please  "  goers — have  I  ever  seen,  both  in  city 
and  country,  than  the  drivers  of  donkeys  and 
camels,  who  pursue,  or  lead,  with  quick  step  and 
lofty  mien  their  animals.  The  street  cries,  are  a 
torment.  Was  it  not  John  Leech  who  said  that 
his  life  was  shortened  by  organ-grinders  ?  Well, 
it  will  be  one  of  the  gains  in  leaving  here,  when  we 
leave  these  horrid,  barbaric  yawps  behind.  There 
is  an  air  of  seclusion  as  to  some  of  the  higher  digni- 
taries, just  as  with  their  tombs.  The  people  and 
government  seem  to  be  very  careful  of  the  tombs 
of  Pashas  and  Sultans,  and  guard  them  with  more 
vestal  vigilance  than  those  of  the  dervishes  and 
hermits.  But  the  tombs  of  the  general  cemeteries 
are  neglected.  The  cypress  trees  are  as  dirty, 
rusty,  and  ragged  as  the  beggars  of  the  streets. 
One  charge  against  Aziz,  the  assassinated  Sultan, 
to  prove  his  insanity,  was  that  he  went  about  in  a 
friendly  way  shaking  hands  with  his  humble  sub- 
jects !  But  in  death  his  tomb  of  mother-of-pearl  is 
loaded  with  rich  vestures,  cashmere  shawls,  and  sil- 
ver ornaments.  These  Turks  may  kill  off  their 
Sultans  ;  but  certainly  they  honor  them  when  dead. 
The  cemeteries,  even  those  in  the  heart  of  Pera, 
and  where  there  are  thousands  of  headstones,  are 
being  despoiled.  Over  the  leading  cemetery  there 
is  now  a  Greek  garden,  where  people  of  all  nations 
commingle  to  drink  coffee  and  wines,  have  meals 
and  ices,  and  listen  to  music.  Wells  are  sunk  into 
these  grounds.  The  wife  of  our  Minister  con- 
fidentially told  me  that  she  had  drank  down  the 
remains  of  a  generation  of  Turks,  carefully  held  in 
solution  and  drawn  from  these  wells.  One  won- 


164 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


ders  if  the  spirits  of  the  dead  Turks  below  these 
pleasure-grounds  do  not  grow  restive  under  these 
diversions  of  the  infidel  dogs  ! 

"  Far-away-Moses,"  celebrated  by  Mark  Twain, 
just  called  with  some  stuffs  to  show  my  wife.  She 
found  him  in  the  Turkish  bazaar  here.  He  is  now 
going  over  the  purchases  she  made  in  Broussa  this 
week.  He  commends  her  success.  He  sends  his 
compliments  to  Mark  Twain  and  Mrs.  Clemens, 
whom  he  greatly  regards.  He  said  some  kind 
words  over  the  rumor  which  he  had  heard  that 
Mark  Twain  had  become  insane.  He  seemed  to 
credit  it.  He  said  that  Mark  imagined  himself  to 
be  a  pyramid,  or  some  other  Egyptian  monument. 
This  was  painful,  but  it  was  a  noble  sort  of  insanity. 
Forty  centuries  hallow  and  look  down  on  it!  As 
such,  Moses  commended  it.  He  intimated  that 
when  Mark  Twain  was  "beside  himself"  he  had 
good  company. 

The  costumes  worn  are  peculiar.  The  dress  of 
the  Turks  is  baggy,  and  made  so  as  to  enable  them 
to  sit  cross-legged,  and  pray  with  facility.  It  is 
quite  flowing,  so  that  sometimes  you  cannot  tell 
the  sexes.  Especially  is  that  the  case  as  to  children. 
I  lost  a  wager  the  other  day  with  an  Irish  solicitor, 
as  to  the  sex  of  a  young  child.  It  had  long  hair, 
and  wore  pantaloons  and  coat.  It  was  difficult  to 
ascertain,  but  our  dragoman  made  it  out.  It  was 
really  a  boy.  Beggars  are  plentiful  in  the  street. 
They  have  learned  the  art  of  personating  misery 
by  rare  theatrical  and  facial  expression.  The  other 
morning,  while  a  lady  friend  was  dilating  behind 
her  fan  on  the  eccentricities  of  the  female  toilet,  in 
her  earnestness  she  dropped  the  fan,  but  her  hand 
and  fingers  went  on,  outside  the  carriage,  and  with 


OTHER  CHANGES  IN  THIRTY  YEARS.  ^5 

such  gesture,  that  a  dozen  beggars  began  the  race, 
over  the  bridge,  after  the  backsheesh.  Lame,  halt, 
aged,  deaf,  and  dumb,  all  except  the  blind,  joined 
in  the  pursuit.  It  was  suggestive  and  amusing. 

As  we  go  up  and  down  the  Bosphorus,  we 
see  the  strangest  contrasts.  Palaces  there  are, 
walled  in,  where  figs  and  pomegranates  are  in  fruit, 
and  oleanders  and  geraniums  in  flower  and  growing 
in  profusion  on  wall  and  in  garden  ;  while  beneath 
the  gorgeous  walls  lies  a  bundle  of  rags  with  a  body 
inside  of  it,  asleep,  but  ready  to  wake  and  pounce 
upon  any  intruding  stranger,  for  alms.  One  cannot 
but  feel  that  the  Turkish  costume  is  very  inconven- 
ient, except  when  they  sit  cross-legged,  or  when 
they  only  pretend  to  sit  and  do  not,  resting  hands 
upon  knees.  This  I  have  seen  both  sexes  for  long 
periods  do  without  apparent  fatigue.  Yet  with  all 
this  peculiarity  of  trousers,  turban,  sash,  and  coat, 
there  is  seldom  one  man  or  boy  dressed  exactly 
like  another.  That  is  the  case  especially  in  the 
country ;  for  there  the  different  villages  or  prov- 
inces have  peculiar  and  distinctive  colors  and 
clothes  for  head  and  body.  They  are  all,  however, 
generally  gay  in  color,  red  being  most  preferred. 
Some  of  the  localities  may  be  determined  by  the 
breadth  and  length  of  the  rear  of  the  breeches. 
Some  of  them  carry  a  good  deal  beside  their  persons 
inside  of  their  large,  bulgy  breeches.  They  are  very 
useful  to  conceal  contraband  goods.  The  sash  is 
sometimes  two  feet  in  width,  and  carries  every- 
thing, from  the  tobacco-pouch,  pipe,  pistols,  and 
knives,  to  the  dry-goods  and  pro  vender  of  a  family. 

The  nursery  maids  here,  especially  for  the  better 
families,  are — men  !  Fathers  seem  very  fond  of 
their  little  ones.  The  husbands  of  the  lower  orders 


r66  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

of  Turks  are  frequently  seen  caring  for  their  babies, 
and  seem  to  be  quite  maternal.  The  women  are 
neither  immodest  nor  forward.  They  have,  without 
exception,  beautiful  eyes,  though  awkward  in  gait. 
Their  skins  are  sallow.  The  children  are  all 
pets  and  beauties,  and  their  eyes  are  radiant  with 
kindness  and  simplicity.  As  an  evidence  of  un- 
progressiveness,  the  bridges  over  the  Golden  Horn 
take  toll  from  horse  and  foot,  which  is  a  great  an- 
noyance to  the  million  and  more  of  people  in  and 
about  these  cities.  An  old  fashion,  especially 
among  the  Greeks,  obtains  here  yet,  as  we  saw  it  a 
score  and  a  half  years  ago.  It  is  the  use  of  beads, 
or  comboloio,  in  conversation.  Every  time  they  drop 
a  bead,  they  have  or  drop  an  idea.  It  assists  in 
talk,  just  as  the  handling  of  a  watch-chain  or  eye- 
glass aids  the  orator. 

We  had  made  trial  trips  above  and  around  the 
city  with  a  guide ;  but  all  at  once,  last  week,  we 
were  for  the  first  time  left  alone  without  our  guide 
to  meet  us  at  the  landing  in  the  city.  Can  we  find 
our  way  without  him  ?  We  get  off  at  the  bridge 
and  endeavor  to  pursue  our  way  through  the  de- 
vious streets  to  the  hole  in  the  hill  of  Galata,  that 
takes  us,  by  tunnel,  up  to  Pera.  I  resolved  to  in- 
quire my  way  in  good  English,  for  I  get  weary 
sometimes  of  my  bad  French,  arid  so  I  accost  a 
natty  man,  Frank  by  nation  and  nature. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  the  way  to  the  tunnel,  mon- 
sieur?" I  ask  with  suavity.  He  says,  "  Pardonnez 
moi,  m'sieu.  Vich  vay  you  come  from  the  estee- 
miare,  so  you  go."  Not  understanding  that,  I  ask 
for  the  tunnel. 

"  Ah  !  you  have  leetle  time  to  get  ze  billy.  I  vill 
run  and  get  zare  first,  m'sieu." 


OTHER   CHANGES  IN   THIRTY    YEARS.  j6; 

"  Don't,"  I  replied,  fearing  a  bill,  and  not  a  billet. 

"  I  dont  want  you  to  go  ;  tell  me  how — which 
street  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  you  will  go  down  ze  rue,  voila  !  and  zen 
make  turn  of  ze  leetle  street  dere,  voila !  Soon  aftare 
you  will  have  see  a  leetle  dog — two,  tree,  four  leetle 
dog — do  not  kickee  ze  dog — go  ze  detour  round 
ze  dog,  and  round  more  dog,  and  more  dog,  and 
more  dog,  and  you  will  zee  ze  dark  hole  of  ze 
tunnel." 

As  the  dogs  are  the  principal  object  of  observa- 
tion in  the  streets,  we  had  no  difficulty  in  seeing 
them,  but  more  in  going  round  them,  and  after 
much  worry  we  got  into  the  hole  and  the  car,  and 
ran  up  fourteen  degrees  elevation  in  three  minutes 
without  a  glimpse  of  light.  This  is  the  latest  evi- 
dence of  progress  in  the  East. 

Thirty  years  ago  we  were  here  !  It  made  me 
feel  that  I  was  a  quasi-posterity  to — myself.  The 
echoes  of  the  past — the  shadows  on  the  dial,  which 
have  numbered  nearly  two  generations — have  a 
peculiar  influence  at  every  aspect  over  my  ob- 
servations. On  the  day  we  landed,  there  was  an 
exultation  in  the  hope  of  making  comparisons  ; 
and  the  four  weeks  since  have  exalted  them  into 
something  out  of  the  ordinary  experiences  of  hu- 
man life.  Ah  !  if  these  shadows  and  echoes  could 
only  talk — not  merely  of  things  which  have  hap- 
pened here,  but  at  home,  as  to  which  I  have  been 
both  actor  and  looker-on — the  big  war  and  its  ex- 
cesses, and  the  wondrous  advancement  of  our  be- 
loved land,  since,  in  all  that  makes  one  proud  and 
patriotic.  These  years  have  broken  many  of  the 
mystic  seals  of  Moslemism,  and  restamped  these 
Eastern  elements  of  weakness  and  power  with  a 


x68  EROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

new  signet.  New  shibboleths  of  party  and  new- 
phases  of  institutions  have  also  come  and  gone  in 
our  own  country  ;  and  with  them  what  great  events  ! 
Here,  in  spite  of  the  lazy  movement  of  affairs,  and- 
the  habitude  of  the  Oriental  to  say,  " Inshallak 
Bukera  /  " — "  Please  God  !  to-morrow  "  —still  there 
are  marks,  deep  and  clear  even  in  my  own  expe- 
rience of  these  climes,  showing  that  this  Eastern 
world  is  not  altogether  moveless  and  stagnant. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

THROUGH  THE  DARDANELLES  WITH  AN  IRISH  CAP- 
TAIN—SEA-COASTS OF  ASIA  AND  ITS  DEAD  EMPIRES 
AND  CITIES— DOMESTICITIES  OF  THE  PEOPLE— ARABS 
AS  CATTLE  DROVERS  — JEWS  PERSECUTED  —  BEIRUT 
REACHED. 

Sheep  climb  and  nibble  as  they  stroll, 

Watched  by  some  turbaned  boy, 

Upon  the  margin  of  the  plain  of  Troy. — PIERPOINT. 

THE  peninsula  between  the  thirty-sixth  and 
forty-first  degrees  of  north  latitude  is  one  of 
the  most  remarkable  countries  upon  this  planet. 
It  has  but  one  rival,  and  that  is  a  similar  block  of 
land  five  degrees  wide  upon  its  south-east.  The 
former  is  known  as  Asia  Minor.  It  is  fringed  and 
tasseled  by  rocks  and  waves,  and  somewhat  re- 
motely by  the  Isles  of  Greece  and  the  ./Egean.  On 
its  north,  from  Constantinople  to  Trebizond,  it  has 
the  Black  Sea  as  its  blue  border ;  while  on  its  east 
it  includes  and  is  limited  by  the  Armenian  plateau, 
with  Mount  Ararat,  and  the  supposed  Garden  of 
Eden.  This  sounds  not  a  little  like  the  bombastic 
boundary  of  our  native  sunset  border — by  "  a  fel- 
low-citizen." Out  of  this  eastern  boundary  are  the 
confluents  which  make  the  rivers  Euphrates  and 
Tigris.  Their  upper  waters  bend  toward  Aleppo, 
and  give  hints  to  English  and  other  engineers  of 
the  Euphrates  railway  en  route  to  India.  Then 
turning  to  the  south-west  the  Euphrates  seeks  the 
"  -":f  '  169 


170 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


Persian  Gulf,  through  rich  alluvial  plains  which 
once  supported  their  millions,  and  were  as  blooming 
as  the  gardens  of  Babylon.  Therein  lies  Bagdad. 
It  once  gloried  in  her  caliphate,  and  had  a  sceptre 
reaching  as  far  as  Granada  and  Gibraltar. 

Lying  between  the  crooked  windings  of  the  Eu- 
phrates and  the  ranges  of  Lebanon  is  the  unin- 
habited waste  known  dimly  as  the  "desert."  It 
is  as  well  marked  on  the  horizon — by  its  peculiar 
phases — seen  from  the  hills  of  Jerusalem,  upon  the 
east,  as  it  is  from  Damascus.  One  of  its  little  off- 
shoots is  in  the  south.  It  is  the  desert  of  the 
Exodus  and  the  Bible.  But  from  the  western  line 
of  this  Syrian  desert  to  the  Mediterranean,  there 
is  a  narrow,  mountainous,  sunburnt,  calcined  slip, 
hardly  three  hundred  miles  long,  by  one  hundred 
in  breadth,  which  is  as  bleak  in  look  as  it  is  bare  of 
population,  and  as  meagre  in  production  as  it  is 
renowned  in  sacred  history.  This  is  known  as  Syria 
and  Judea.  Its  mountains  and  plains,  its  caves 
and  temples,  its  seas  and  rivers,  from  Hermon  to 
Tabor,  or  rather  from  the  Rhas  El  Ehanzir  to 
Sinai,  are  the  sources  of  rivers  as  well  as  of  moral- 
ities, of  streams  for  a  thirsty  soil  as  well  as  of  relig- 
ions for  a  thirsty  soul. 

When  we  concluded  to  sail  along  these  apostolic 
coasts,  we  were  lucky  in  having  our  former  vessel, 
the  Nakhimoff.  We  had  crossed  the  Black  Sea  in 
her  without  fear  of  dynamite,  explosion,  or  wreck. 
Besides,  was  not  her  captain  a  Corkonian  ?  So 
that  when  Captain  Thomas  received  us  on  his 
steamer,  in  the  Golden  Horn,  we  felt  that  not  only 
was  the  starry  flag  about  us,  but  the  green  ensign 
of  Erin  was  "  still  there,"  behind  the  double-headed 
eagle  on  the  Russian  flag-staff.  Under  these  pro- 


ASIA   AND  ITS  INHABITANTS.  I-Jl 

tective  surroundings,  and  with  a  load  of  Turkish 
humanity  utterly  indescribable,  we  passed  the  Dar- 
danelles, the  old  scenes  of  Troy,  the  new  city  of 
Smyrna,  the  shaken  isle  of  Chios,  and  found  our- 
selves at  last  afloat  for  a  week  on  this  sometimes 
fractious  sea. 

Two  generations  have  gone  since  last  I  passed 
this  way ;  and  an  active  life,  filled  with  the  strain 
of  every  sinew  of  such  energy  as  I  had,  had  not 
lessened  one  iota  my  early  love  for  the  FIRST  FAIR 
and  FIRST  GOOD,  which  made  my  early  study  of 
Greek  literature,  mythology,  and  history  an  en- 
chantment. I  well  remember  how  eagerly  I  looked 
out  of  our  French  steamer,  in  July,  1851,  for  the 
plains  of  Troy.  Since  then  they  have  been  made 
the  object  of  much  excavation,  and  almost  of  as 
much  disputation  as  the  kings  of  Greece  indulged 
in  around  its  walls,  or  scholars  of  polyglotical 
tongues  since,  as  to  their  location.  Then,  as  now, 
little  was  to  be  seen  ;  not  even  if  you  land  and  go 
into  the  recent  "  diggings." 

The  reader  will  know  that  the  plains  of  Troy, 
and  Troy  itself,  have  given  rise  to  something  more 
than  mere  logomachy.  A  rival  city,  or  rather  a 
city  on  a  rival  site,  was  built  by  Alexander  the 
Great  upon  a  spot  upon  the  coast,  which  we  viewed 
in  a  haze  below  the  point  where  Dr.  Schliemann 
and  others  locate  old  Troy.  I  have  not  time  nor 
ability,  in  the  absence  of  my  books  (for  who  can 
work  magic  without  his  books,  not  even  in  a 
"  Tempest  ?"),  to  fight  over  again  the  battle  of  the 
Greeks  and  Trojans.  My  hero  in  that  ten-years' 
fight  was  Thersites.  He  was  never  honored  as 
he  should  have  been.  He  was  called  democrat, 
critic,  buffoon  ;  but  he  ever  used  his  logical  ad 


J72  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

absurdum,  and  his  gifts  of  wit  and  principles  of 
honesty,  to  expose  "  star  bids  "  for  Troy,  and  to 
push  the  dilatory  toward  conflict,  and  to  punish  the 
venal  and  debauched. 

With  a  passing  look  at  the  plains  of  Troy  as  we 
went  out  of  the  Dardanelles ;  with  a  curious  won- 
der at  the  contents  of  the  tumuli,  which,  like  those 
in  my  native  Ohio,  loom  above  the  levels  of  the 
plain  and  shore,  we  retire  to  our  cabin  to  discuss 
with  a  learned  Greek,  once  a  teacher  in  America, 
Mr.  Constantine,  and  now  an  eloquent  minister 
of  the  gospel  in  Smyrna,  the  meaning,  situation, 
mythology,  and  scope  of  the  Iliad.  We  had  some 
disputation,  as  who  does  not  when  Homer  and  his 
home  and  epic  are  the  topic  ?  Whereat  a  lady  at  our 
table  smiles  with  a  "  knowing  satisfaction,"  which 
is  not  unnoticed.  We  call  her  out.  She  talks 
English  handsomely.  She  is  of  Dutch  descent. 
Her  maiden  name  is  known  in  New  York,  and  her 
Polish  name  (for  she  is  married)  is  known  to  the 
roster  of  Polish  nobility.  The  one  is  Van  Lennep, 
and  the  other — well,  I  must  not  risk  its  "spell." 
This  lady  is  a  descendant  of  one  of  the  old  Levan- 
tine company  from  Holland,  who  came  to  Smyrna 
for  commerce  a  century  or  more  ago. 

As  in  New  York,  so  in  Smyrna,  the  Dutch  have 
not  given  way  exactly.  They  have  been  submerged 
somewhat  by  a  new  influx  of  commerce  and  enter- 
prise. This  lady  settled  our  Trojan  war  over  the 
site  and  authenticity  of  the  ruins  on  the  plains  ;  for 
did  not  her  aunt  own  a  farm  on  the  very  site  of 
Troy  ?  Was  she  not  herself  a  resident — animus 
revertendi — of  Priam's  old  home  ?  Had  she  not 
borne  five  children  there  ?  She  surely  ought  to 
know.  She  was  going  to  her  relatives  in  Smyrna 


ASIA   AND  ITS  INHABITANTS. 


173 


for  a  respite  from  the  fever  which  was  in  her  sys- 
tem ;  for  Nature,  rising  above  epics,  will  have  her 
revenges,  and  the  very  route  which  Achilles  took, 
as  he  dragged  the  dead  Hector  around,  is  cursed 
worse  than  the  Potomac  flats  with  malaria,  and  re- 
quires more  quinine  and  whisky  than  the  Maumee 
ever  did  in  early  Ohio. 

One  advantage  of  this  travel  is,  that  even  the 
inconveniences  of  a  motley  crowd  gave  us  an  in- 
sight into  habits  only  to  be  seen  in  the  homes 
of  men.  These  people  travel  much.  When  they 
leave  home,  they  take  up  their  bed  literally  and 
scripturally,  and — steam  to  other  lands,  They  bear 
their  board  along.  Their  families  are  on  the  deck. 
They  cook,  eat,  and  sleep,  as  if  in  their  native  huts 
on  the  bleak  mountains  of  Syria.  Separated  from 
them,  by  being  "  first  class,"  yet  we  observe,  if  not 
mingle  with  them.  Their  domestic  distresses — 
even  death, —  their  police  regulations  —  even  in 
guarding  assassins,  and  their  loving-kindnesses  and 
religious  devotions  are  under  our  eye.  Besides, 
the  vessel  not  only  stops  in  the  ports  along  the 
way,  but  stops  all  day,  so  that  we  can  survey  the 
cities  and  towns.  Most  of  these  isles  of  Greece 
and  cities  by  the  sea  are  seen,  with  their  castles  and 
mosques.  They  are  seen  from  the  ship,  with  a 
glass,  without  landing.  Even  when  you  cannot  see 
the  historic,  sacred,  or  traditionary  spot,  it  is  pleas- 
ant, as  the  captain  said,  "  to  feel  you  are  nigh  unto 
it."  When  we  pass  the  famed  Greek  isle,  which  is 
sheer  five  hundred  feet  of  rock,  from  off  which  the 
Greek  brothers,  husbands,  and  fathers  drove  their 
women  into  the  sea  rather  than  that  they  should 
fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Turks,  it  was  too  misty — 
but  it  was  pleasant  to  be  "  nigh." 


174  FROM   POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

Again  we  are  in  the  open  sea,  but  not  out  of 
sight  of  the  Isle  of  Patmos,  so  weird  in  its  "  Rev- 
elations." Upon  yonder  rocky  isle  once  stood  the 
exiled  seer.  There  he  dreamed  of  the  land  he  had 
left.  The  murmur  of  the  wave  upon  the  shore 
gave  voice  to  his  ideal.  It  kindled  his  rapturous 
eye,  as  he  saw  beyond  the  surges — beyond  the 
horizon  where  the  white  sails  gleamed  in  the  sun— 
another  sea,  more  smooth  and  crystalline,  and  a 
harbor  of  safety  for  our  storm-tossed  race  of  sin— 
the  harbor  of  eternal  joy  !  There  shone  the  light, 
when  the  angel  came  to  him,  and  pointed  toward 
the  pearly  gates  to  which  his  soul  mounted,  and 
whence  came  the  ecstatic  song  of  the  ransomed. 
Wondrous  strange — the  inspiration  of  these  isles 
of  Greece ! 

We  are  still  in  the  open  sea — to  the  right  of 
Lero,  Kalymno,  and  Kos,  with  their  splendid 
mountain  ranges,  and  between  Nisyro  and  Telos — 
and  ever  in  the  sight  of  a  constellation  of  terrene 
memories,  each  an  enchanting  gem  set  in  the  bluest 
of  waters. 

At  length  we  leave  the  classics  and  the  myths 
and  their  localities  behind,  for  a  vision  of  the  isle 
of  Rhodes,  to  the  north  of  which  we  sail,  and 
around  whose  extreme  point,  where  the  old  city  of 
the  Knights  of  St.  John  is  situated,  we  pass  for 
a  view  of  windmills  on  the  lowlands.  Its  red  pal- 
ace is  in  the  middle  of  the  city,  and  its  world- 
renowned  Colossus — nowhere  and  no  more  !  We 
saw  the  place — at  the  entrance  of  its  harbor — the  two 
points,  rather,  where  the  feet  of  the  giant  stood  ! 
It  was  no  great  thing,  only  a  hundred  feet  high, 
though  a  "wonder  of  the  world."  It  was  not  equal 
to  the  Brooklyn  bridge  in  its  span  or — expense  ! 


ASIA    AND  ITS  INHABITANTS.  J75 

It  was  thrown  down  by  an  earthquake,  and  its 
bronze  sold  on  speculation  by  an  Ottoman  officer. 
Rhodes  has  distinguishing  features  in  history  and 
politics.  When  I  drew  the  first  joint  resolution 
for  the  exchange  of  prisoners  at  the  beginning  of 
our  war,  it  was  based  on  the  prescript  of  Vattel, 
who  found  its  element  and  precedent  in  the  siege 
of  Rhodes  by  Poliorcetes.  This  made  Rhodes  of 
special  interest.  Besides,  its  climate  and  scenery, 
its  olden  commerce  and  just  codes,  its  elder  day  of 
fierce  contests,  and  its  new  conflicts  with  the  Turk 
make  it  only  next  to  Cyprus  in  its  interest  to  the 
tourist,  statesman;  and  scholar. 

Since  we  passed  out  of  its  sight  we  have  had 
two  days  and  two  nights  of  serene  sailing  over 
these  azure  seas,  and  without  a  ripple  to  send  us 
below.  No  Grecian  god  has  thrust  his  trident 
into  boiling  seas.  Only  once  or  twice  the  southern 
and  rocky  coasts  of  Asia  Minor  have  been  sighted. 
Last  night  we  crossed  the  Gulf  of  Adalia,  and  we 
were  awakened  this  soft  and  sweet  morning  to  see 
the  little  seaport  of  Mersina. 

When  we  landed  at  Mersina  we  were  only  three 
hours  from  Tarsus,  where  St.  Paul  was  born.  We 
could  have  gone  there,  though  under  a  hot  sky, 
and  with  some  protection,  and  still  reached  our 
boat  before  it  sailed ;  but  Tarsus  now  is  not  the 
magnificent  city  it  once  was.  It  boasts  of  Roman 
inscriptions ;  and  it  is  quite  a  place  for  trade  and 
Turks.  Once  it  rejoiced  in  a  splendid  university. 
The  Roman  emperors  selected  tutors  for  their  chil- 
dren from  Tarsus.  St.  Paul  was  one  of  the  stu- 
dents. He  was  also  a  tent-maker,  as  he  called 
himself,  and  to  this  day  there  is  a  kind  of  cloth 
from  the  goats  of  Cilicia — of  which  Tarsus  was  the 


176 


PROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


capital — which  is  used  for  tents.  It  is  yet  used 
there  by  the  Turcomans.  Here  Antony  fell  in 
love,  at  first  sight,  with  Cleopatra.  Tarsus  was  a 
Roman  city,  and  Paul  a  Roman  citizen.  He  made 
good  use  of  his  rights  as  such,  when  his  enemies 
harassed  him.  We  did  not  visit  this  noted  place, 
for  we  received  at  the  port  a  telegram  announcing 
the  President's  death,  and  felt  in  no  mood  for  the 
excursion.  In  my  wife's  journal  is  this  record. 
It  is  the  ending  of  the  long  suspense,  which  was  as 
much,  if  not  more  poignant  to  us  abroad,  than  to 
others  at  home  : 

"  Friday,  Sept.  23d. — We  are  at  Mersina  for 
breakfast.  A  dispatch  comes  from  Smyrna.  Alas  ! 
pur  President  is  dead.  I  wait  before  giving  it  to 
S.  S.  I  say  to  him  :  '  General  Garfield  is 
worse.'  But  the  truth  must  have  been  felt,  as  he 
immediately  inquires,  'Is  he  dead?'  And  the 
captain,  not  seeing  my  intent,  says,  'Yes.'  It  was 
a  shock.  They  had  served  together  so  long,  and 
had  been  so  cordial  in  their  relations  and  sym- 
pathies. Our  Muscovite  Mohammedans,  on  the  way 
to  Mecca,  who  are  in  the  cabin  inquire,  '  What  is 
the  matter  ? '  They  see  our  trouble.  The  steward 
explains,  whereupon  they  express  great  sympathy." 

We  heard  of  the  great  calamity,  in  Norway,  on  the 
6th  of  July.  Since  that  time,  two  months  have  gone, 
during  which  we  have  not  been  without  anxiety. 
Those  at  home  can  hardly  understand  it.  For 
fourteen  years  I  served  with  the  dead  President, 
representing,  part  of  the  time,  the  same  State,  and 
sometimes  on  the  same  committees.  The  loss  is 
more  than  that  of  our  Chief  Magistrate.  It  is  a  per- 
sonal affliction.  God  help  and  sustain  the  bereaved, 
and  give  wisdom  to  execute  the  established  order. 


ASIA   AND  ITS  INHABITANTS. 


177 


These  mercantile  Russians  are  very  kind.  They 
are  devoted  to  their  religion.  They  speak  Rus- 
sian only,  and  read  Arabic  and  study  their  tenets 
and  Koran  nearly  all  the  time.  They  pray  seven 
times  a  day,  under  the  lead  of  a  priest.  I  have 
learned  to  respect  them  greatly,  although  I  can 
only  talk  to  them  by  signs  and  through  the  stew- 
ard. They  dress  in  long,  drab  surtouts,  and  have 
a  profusion  of  gold  chains.  One  of  them  wrote  me 
his  name  and  address  in  Russian.  His  name  is 
Ksamabden  Castroff.  He  is  wealthy,  and  lives  on 
one  of  the  remote  streams  which  empty  into  the 
Volga.  When  on  deck  these  pilgrims  were  not 
sure,  owing  to  the  turning  of  the  vessel,  which  way 
Mecca  lay.  No  wonder.  We  were  amid  the 
Archipelago  ;  and  after  the  mufti  had  called  them 
to  prayer,  and  their  rich  rugs  were  spread,  I  had 
the  temerity  to  correct  their  direction.  My  en- 
gineering skill  was  in  consequence  of  a  compass — 
a  charm  on  my  watch  chain.  It  has  done  duty 
twice  in  managing  a  Moslem  prayer-meeting. 

The  captain  likes  these  Cossacks,  although  they 
be  Mussulmans.  He  does  not  like  the  Turks. 
"  All  the  turf,"  he  says,  "  in  the  bogs  of  Ireland, 
wouldn't  warm  me  to  them." 

A  description  of  our  companions  in  voyaging 
would  be  of  interest,  as  these  Orientals  take  their 
domesticities  along.  We  have  a  family  on  our 
steamer  who  are  quite  attractive,  and  with  whom 
we  regret  to  part.  It  is  that  of  a  Turk,  Essad 
Bey.  His  photograph  lies  before  me.  He  is 
Auditor  of  the  "  Six  Contributions,"  as  they  are 
called  in  Constantinople — that  is,  certain  reserve 
or  farmed  revenues.  He  is  going  to  Aleppo,  with 
his  one  wife.  She  is  a  daughter  of  Djemul  Pasha, 


I78  FROM  POLE    TO   PYRAMID. 

the  Governor  of  the  Aleppo  District  and  a  general 
of  cavalry.  Her  name  is  Safvet  Hanime,  and  her 
sign  manual  (not  her  picture,  I  regret  to  say)  i:; 
upon  the  back  of  his  photograph  in  dainty  Turkish 
characters.  She  is  the  granddaughter  of  Ncmik 
Pasha,  the  oldest  living  general  in  the  Turkish 
service.  She  has  several  attendants,  not  the  least 
attentive  of  whom  is  the  husband.  We  thought  at 
first  that  they  were  groom  and  bride  ;  but  she  tells 
us  she  has  a  child  at  home.  She  is  only  seventeen, 
and  has  a  winsome  face  and  gentle  manner.  We 
have  occasion  to  know,  for  she  dropped  her  yash- 
mak, after  the  first  day  or  so,  although  still  wearing 
it  on  her  head.  A  voluminous  silken  ulster  con- 
ceals her  form.  Her  husband  talks  French,  and 
we  talk  to  her  through  him.  The  captain  rallies 
her  for  hiding  her  beauty  so  often  under  the  veil, 
as  God  intended  all  loveliness  to  be  seen. 

"There's  so  many  ugly. ones  we  see,"  he  says  ; 
"  ugh  !  the  earth's  heavy  and  the  sea's  groanin'  wid 
'em.  So  let  your  face  shine  ! " 

The  captain  is  an  aesthete,  and  believes  that 
women  are  trustees  of  beauty. 

They  take  our  badinage  good-naturedly,  and  with 
pleasant  parting  salutations  we  separate  at  the  port 
of  Aleppo,  which  is  Alexandretta.  She  arose  early 
in  the  morning  and  came  to  our  cabin  ;  but  my  wife 
did  not  know  her,  for  she  had  put  on  the  colored 
Arab  veil,  and  was  enveloped  utterly.  We  waived 
them  our  adieus  as  we  saw  him  mount  his  steed, 
and  saw  her  mount  a  palanquin,  fixed  between  two 
horses,  for  a  three  days'  journey  over  the  moun- 
tains to  Aleppo,  by  way  of  Antioch.  They  gave 
us  an  earnest  invitation  to  go  along. 

"  How  glad  our   mother  would  be,  and  father, 


ASIA   AND  ITS  INHABITANTS. 


179 


too."  This  was  both  hearty  and  courteous,  and 
would  have  been  a  delight.  It  seems  that  her 
father  has  been  to  Paris,  on  the  staff  of  the  late 
Sultan,  Abdul  Aziz.  He  has  advanced  notions  of 
government.  When  we  rallied  Essad  Bey  for  his 
devotion  to  his  wife,  so  unusual  among  the  Turks, 
he  said  : 

"  Oh,  my  father  and  grandfather  were  the  same." 

The  captain  told  me  that  Essad  was  the  only 
Turk  he  had  ever  seen  who  had  made  a  friend  of 
his  wife. 

"  Most  of  them,"  he  says,  "  put  their  wives  in  a 
pen  on  the  lower  deck,  and  take  a  first-class  for 
themselves  ! " 

Alexandretta,  where  we  leave  them,  is  a  hot 
place.  It  is  in  the  extreme  north-east  corner  of  the 
Mediterranean,  and  unhealthy.  The  steward  closes 
the  windows  of  our  cabin  in  his  care  for  us.  If 
ever  the  Euphrates  railway  is  built,  this  port  will 
be  its  entrepot.  Indeed,  it  is  surmised  that  one 
reason  for  England  acquiring  Cyprus,  west  of  this 
bay,  is  to  consummate  the  route  to  India,  by  way 
of  the  rich  valley  of  the  Euphrates,  and  the  Persian 
Gulf. 

All  day  long  we  wait  here,  taking  in  cattle.  We 
perceive  caravans  of  camels  loading  and  unload- 
ing on  the  shore.  Much  amusement  is  afforded  in 
watching  the  chase  of  the  frightened  mountain 
bullocks  that  escape  from  the  clutches  of  the  Arabs 
as  they  endeavor  to  place  them  in  the  lighter. 

"  These  cattle,"  says  the  captain,  "  go  to  Egypt, 
where,  unless  they  arrive  in  season,  there  is  a  fam- 
ine ;  but  you  see  they  are  calves  compared  with 
those  we  fetched  across  from  Russia." 

We  take  on  some  sheep  and  hogs,  which  gives 


jgo  FROM  POLE   TO  PYRAMID. 

the  captain  a  chance  to  quote  his  favorite,  Samuel 
Lover,  one  of  whose  characters  says  that  "  prices 
are  so  high  in  Ireland,  by  reason  of  the  staymers, 
that  makes  gintlemen  of  the  pigs,  sending  them  on 
their  thravels  to  furrin  parts." 

The  native  name  for  Alexandretta  is  Scanderoon. 
It  is  surrounded  by  a  pestilential  marsh.  The  vil- 
lage is  a  sample  of  a  poor  post  town,  built  on  land 
made  by  the  debris  of  the  winter  streams  from  the 
mountain  wash.  Our  vessel  is  two  hundred  yards 
from  the  shore.  The  water  is  very  blue  and  smooth. 
There  is  a  level  plain  to  the  right,  and  a  line  of  low 
hills  to  the  left.  There  are  a  few  trees  on  the  plain. 
The  mountains  above  are  wrinkled  by  streams. 
Evidently  this  head-quarter  of  caravans  is  subject 
to  quakes  or  fires.  There  are  few  roofs  on  the 
buildings.  There  are  twenty  houses  of  stone- 
warehouses — in  front  of  which  are  piles  on  piles  of 
goods,  mostly  bales  of  cotton.  The  beach  is  neat. 
The  noise  on  the  shore  is  from  a  score  of  Arabs,  in 
dirty  clothes  and  dirtier  turbans,  howling  at  the 
cattle  and  jabbering  with  each  other.  Our  baby 
engine  is  working  the  crane,  lifting  on  boxes  and 
bales.  Consular  flags  are  flying  in  the  port — none 
American.  Camels,  laden,  are  moving  out  over  the 
hills  to  Tarsus  and  Adana.  Back  of  these  moun- 
tains is  the  Antioch  of  the  Christians  and  the 
Aleppo  of  the  Moslems ;  and  between  them  are 
churches  of 'the  early  Christians  yet  standing,  and, 
except  the  roofs,  as  perfect  as  when  they  were  built. 
Up  these  defiles  are  the  roads  of  the  early  conquer- 
ors of  Asia  Minor  and  Syria.  Here,  or  hereabouts, 
is  where  Alexander  marched  and  apostles  and 
martyrs  walked  and  talked. 

The   Russian    consul   and  the    steamer's   agent 


ASIA   AND  ITS  INHABITANTS.  jgi 

come  aboard.  Our  steward  again  arranges  the 
dinner  on  the  deck,  dividing  us  off  by  a  sail  from 
the  noise  and  crowd. 

As  Simeon,  the  steward,  brings  upon  the  table 
the  fish,  he  points  out  to  us  the  precise  point  where 
the  whale  threw  up  Jonah.  We  get  our  glass  and 
examine  the  spot.  Sure  enough,  two  pillars  and  a 
temple  to  "  Yonah  "  (as  Simeon  calls  him)  appear. 
The  " grand poisson"  is  discussed  with  much  sauce. 
The  captain  says : 

"  The  story  is  like  that  of  the  goose  that  diverted 
King  O'Toole.  It  was  a  good  goose  for  a  while  ; 
but  after  a  little  it  could  divert  him  no  longer  with- 
out the  aid  of  a  saint.  There's  no  whales  in  this 
sea,  and  never  was."  The  Russian  consul  disputes 
this.*  He  had  heard  of  one. 

"  Oh,  it's  a  grampus,"  says  the  captain.  "They 
can't  swallow  a  herring." 

"  No  !  a  real  whale,"  says  the  consul. 

"  Baitheshin  !  it  may  be,"  says  the  captain;  "but 
how  could  there  be  more  than  one  Jonah?  They 
have,  two  other  places  down  the  coast,  by  Tyre  and 
Sidon,  where  Jonah  landed  from  the  mouth  of  the 
whale." 

This  was  a  settler ;  but  the  Russian  consul,  whose 
mother  was  a  Scotch  Presbyterian,  was  not  going 
to  give  up  Jonah  as  easily  as  the  whale  did,  and  he 
returned  to  the  fight. 

"  Sperm  whales,"  he  argued,  "  can  swallow  a 
man." 

"  But  the  whales  you  refer  to  as  being  here,  were 
they  sperm  ?  "  asked  the  captain. 

*  I  have  seen  a  whale  since,  in  the  Beirut  Medical  College,  or  its  skele- 
ton rather,  found  near  where  Jonah  is  supposed  to  have  been  disgorged. 
It  was  not  sperm,  however. 


X82  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

The  consul  is  bothered.  I  closed  the  discussion 
by  intimating  that  if  any  part  of  the  story  be  true, 
it  is  all,  very  likely ;  and  that  if  it  be  only  a  moral 
or  an  oriental  parable,  it  may  be  just  as  wise,  if  a 
fiction  ;  and  if  it  be  miraculous,  the  work  of  God, 
who  shall  dispute  anything  in  the  story,  however 
seemingly  miraculous  ? 

"  In  the  darkness  as  in  the  daylight, 

On  the  water  as  on  land, 
God's  eye  is  looking  on  us 
And  beneath  us  is  his  hand." 

The  captain  then  enlarges  on  the  game  in  the 
mountains.  He  points  to  places,  steeped  in  heat 
and  glare,  where  he  knew  there  were  wild  boars. 

"I  went  there  once,"  he  said,  "with  a  fowling- 
piece  for  birds.  The  bird  I  found  gave  a  grunt, 
ugh  !  and  ran  across  the  road,  as  much  afraid  of 
me  as  I  of  him.  We  were  both  scared.  I  didn't 
waste  any  small  shot  on  his  tough  hide  ;  but  shot 
myself — down  hill  !" 

We  laughed  ironically.  "  The  divil  hang  me 
wid  ropes  made  out  of  the  sands  of  the  sae,  if  what 
I  tell  is  not  the  thruth." 

A  delegation  of  Hebrews  waited  on  the  captain 
to  ask  a  place  by  themselves,  to  welcome  in  their 
new  year  by  their  peculiar  worship.  There  are  one 
hundred  and  seven  on  board,  flying  from  Russia 
and  Germany  to  Judea. 

"The  Turks  make  game  of  us,"  they  said,  "and 
we  want  to  be  in  the  hold  by  ourselves."  That  is 
arranged ;  and  the  cattle,  sheep,  and  pigs  all  stored, 
the  water-casks  loaded  in,  and  we  prepare  to  go 
on  shore,  after  the  sun  sinks,  to  see  the  famous 
landing-place  of  Jonah.  From  this  we  are  dis- 
suaded by  this  story  of  the  consul : 


ASIA    AND  ITS  INHABITANTS.  183 

"  It  is  all  safe  over  on  the  right,  where  we  live  in 
the  mountains.  You  are  in  no  danger  going  there  ; 
but  over  to  the  left  there  are  plenty  of  brigands. 
They  are  Circassians.  They  left  the  Russian  Gov- 
ernment after  the  conquest  of  their  country,  and 
were  assigned  these  sterile  mountains.  They 
couldn't  make  anything,  and  so  turned  brigands." 
So  we  did  not  venture  to  the  place  where  Jonah 
landed. 

We  have  a  hundred  refugee  Jews  from  Russia. 
They  are  going  to  Jerusalem.  Most  of  them  are  of 
Poland,  and  poor.  Some  are  from  Germany,  and 
have  undergone  great  loss  and  trouble.  Two  corre- 
spondents of  journals  are  aboard  in  the  second  class. 
They  have  been  unfortunate.  They  had  been  walk- 
ing the  via  dolor osa.  They  are  going  to  Jerusalem, 
to  write  up  for  their  journals  the  efforts  at  restora- 
tion and  colonization  in  Judea.  Efforts  have  been 
made,  and  are  making,  to  this  end.  A  Hebrew 
gentleman  in  Constantinople  is  striving  to  obtain 
the  proper  privileges;  and  money  is  assured  for 
immigration,  if  the  refugee  be  ready  and  assured 
of  government  protection. 

The  effort  by  the  Union  of  the  American  He- 
brew congregations  is  appreciated  in  its  aid  to  the 
helpless  victims  of  bigotry  and  persecution.  The 
Alliance  at  Paris  and  its  efforts  are  less  known.  It 
is  to  be  hoped  that  the  opprobrium  of  our  nine- 
teenth century,  with  its  vaunted  civilization,  will  be 
removed  by  the  benevolence  of  mankind,  led  by  the 
free  spirit  and  abundant  opulence  of  the  Western 
Hebrew.  No  cause  ever  so  appealed  to  human 
sympathy.  When  even  the  Spanish  King  reverses 
the  record  of  ages  in  Spain,  and  begs  pardon  of  the 
great  race,  which  his  predecessors  despoiled  and  per- 


!84  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

secuted  ;  when  America  opens  a  haven  and  refuge 
in  the  West,  to  beacon  these  hapless  sons  of  Israel 
to  its  shores ;  when  former  disabilities  disappear 
from  England  and  France,  and  the  civic  and  parlia- 
mentary offices,  and  tribunals  of  influence  open  to 
this  gifted  race  in  the  lands  where  they  were  hounded 
unto  death — it  would  not  do  for  a  country  profess- 
ing our  liberalities  of  thought  and  constitutional 
guarantees  to  be  backward  in  the  race  of  sympathy 
and  advancement. 

But  how  much  there  is  to  be  done  to  rescue  the 
"  despised  and  rejected  of  men  ?"  Even  in  Turkey, 
where  the  Jew  is  much  better  treated  than  in  Ger- 
many or  Russia,  I  have  seen,  on  the  steamers  of 
the  Bosphorus,  a  Hebrew  caned  by  an  Ottoman 
soldier,  for  no  other  provocation  than  his  being  a 
Jew,  and  because  the  soldier  had  the  sympathy  of 
the  crowd,  and  no  one  to  interfere. 

Upon  our  vessel,  a  Jew,  who  had  made  some 
mistake  as  to  his  fare,  was  not  allowed  explanation, 
but  thrust  out  upon  the  gangway,  tumbled  down 
into  a  boat,  headlong,  in  peril  of  life  by  breaking 
his  neck  or  drowning.  There  he  lay,  stunned,  in 
the  bottom  of  the  boat,  to  be  sent  ashore  among 
strangers.  At  length  he  revived  and  sat  up — to 
be  buffeted  by  a  Nubian  rascal,  as  black  in  his  face 
as  in  his  heart.  No  one  could  interfere.  This 
negro  boatman  pulled  him  about  and  struck  him  in 
diabolic  glee.  It  made  all  the  blood  of  my  body 
boil.  But  this  was  done  without  the  knowledge 
of  the  captain,  who  would  not  have  allowed  it. 
Quietly  and  unostentatiously  the  money  for  the 
fare  demanded  was  raised  among  his  co-religionists, 
almost  as  poor  as  himself,  and  he  was  permitted 
to  ascend  the  gangway  and  resume  his  way  to 


ASIA   AND  ITS  INHABITANTS.  ^5 

Jerusalem.  How  kind  these  Jews  are  to  each 
other ;  and  so  far  as  I  know,  charitable  and  hos- 
pitable to  all.  "  They  give  and  hide  the  giving 
hand,"  and  in  the  end  they  too  will  "  find  that 
their  smallest  gift  outweighs  the  burden  of  the  sea 
or  land."  Certainly  there  will  be  compensation 
for  this 

"Child  of  the  wandering  foot  and  weary  breast, 
Seeking  to  flee  away  and  be  at  rest," 

within  the  renowned  city  of  his  fathers.  Still  it 
is  a  sign  of  this  bigotry,  unmistakably  despicable, 
and  which  requires  heroic  correction. 

If  we  cannot  do  otherwise  in  its  correction,  in 
America,  we  can  create  a  moral  sentiment  with 
some  emphasis.  Let  us  follow  the  splendid  example 
of  the  head  of  a  Polish  diocese.  How  touching 
and  beautiful  is  the  pastoral  letter  of  the  Arch- 
bishop of  the  Catholic  Church  at  Warsaw,  in  his 
protest  against  the  wrongs  committed  upon  the 
Jews,  and  his  appeal  for  peace  and  harmony  among 
all,  however  differing  in  creed  ! 

What  can  exceed  in  bigoted  baseness  the  Jewish 
persecutions  of  these  latter  days?  It  is  not  alone 
that  at  Kief,  where  we  stopped.  There  some  two 
and  a  half  millions  of  dollars  of  damages  was  done 
to  the  innocent  and  unoffending  Hebrews.  The 
losses  cannot  be  computed  in  rubles  or  dollars. 
The  disquietude  of  families,  the  riots  and  the  raids, 
are  just  as  terrible  in  Prussia  as  in  Russia. 

And  this  is  the  race  that  gave  us  such  patriots 
and  scholars,  soldiers  and  composers,  philosophers, 
philanthropists,  scientists,  and  statesmen  as  Soule, 
Rotsher,  Wecherly,  the  Herschels,  Arago,  Spinosa, 


,86  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

Mendelssohn,  Rossini,  Jacobson,  Montefiore,  Mey- 
erbeer, Disraeli,  Cremieux,  and  all  the  bright  con- 
stellation which  now  irradiates  our  century. 

As  we  rose  next  morning,  the  wail  of  the  He- 
brews and  their  sad  ceremony  began.  Indeed  it 
had  begun  the  evening  before.  On  Sunday  morn- 
ing we  attended  church,  figuratively,  at  Laodicea, 
now  known  as  Latakia.  It  was  the  seat  of  one  of 
the  ancient  churches.  It  is  a  low,  sandy  beach,  in 
a  crescent  shape,  with  a  rise  of  greenery,  which 
consists  of  olives  and  palm-trees.  There  are 
mosques  and  an  old  fort.  From  the  amount  of  the 
freight,  there  must  be  an  industrious  people  behind 
the  huge,  bare  masses  of  mountains.  Chickens  are 
brought  on  board,  and  sell  for  three  piastres,  or 
twelve  cents.  At  two  in  the  afternoon  we  are  at 
Tripolis.  We  have  another  dinner  on  deck  with 
the  local  agents.  There  is  a  variety  of  spicy  talk 
at  the  table,  and  plenty  to  be  seen  on  the  shore. 
The  awnings  are  spread  against  the  sun  and  the 
smirch  of  the  smoke-stacks.  The  Moslem  men  are 
devoted  to  their  prayers,  while  we  are  at  our  meal. 
As  night  comes  on,  the  old  crusader  castle  looks 
grim  and  grand  amid  its  setting  of  orange,  lemon, 
apricot,  and  apple  trees.  There  is  water  here,  as 
the  groves  testify.  There  is  a  penitentiary  also, 
and  the  officers  and  soldiers  prepare  to' land,  amid 
great  curiosity,  the  seven  assassins  we  have  brought 
with  us  from  Constantinople.  One  of  the  murder- 
ers is  an  old  man.  He  killed  his  son  and  daughter. 
There  is  a  fierce,  insane  gleam  in  his  eye,  and  he 
looks  about  for  an  escape  by  a  swim  ;  but,  as  they 
are  chained  together,  that  will  not  do.  The  soldiers 
stand  over  the  group,  with  fingers  on  the  triggers 
of  their  guns. 


ASIA    AND  ITS  INHABITANTS.  187 

Our  engine  whistles  for  our  departure.  All  the 
boats  are  off  from  our  sides,  when  up  rushes,  pell- 
mell,  a  wild  Arab.  He  has  been  left ;  he  makes 
a  howl  on  the  gang-plank  ;  no  one  does  aught  but 
laugh;  I  go  to  him  and  beckon  him  to  "jump 
—jump  big!"  He  saw  a  boat  of  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen leaving  the  shore  for  a  pleasure  ride  round 
us  ;  and,  feeling  his  way  to  be  safe  and  clear,  he 
doffed  his  pants,  and,  in  his  rather  limited  shirt, 
gave  a  "header"  into  the  sea.  He  swam  around 
with  his  bundle  of  clothes  in  his  teeth,  and  amid 
the  consternation  of  the  females  of  the  little  boat, 
he  crawled  up  and  in.  I  sent  a  mejidia  (dollar 
coin)  after  him,  and  received  a  hurrah  ! 

The  mountains  here  are  the  upheaval  of  terrific 
fires.  The  gulches  and  valleys,  dressed  in  orange 
and  palm,  are  the  result  of  specific  gravity  and 
much  winter  rain.  This  city,  and  others  of  older 
fame,  are  but  deltas  of  streams  from  these  mount- 
ains. These  deltas  become  fruitful  under  this 
sun  of  the  East,  where  in  abundance  are  the  flow- 
ers, fruits,  and  plants  which  grow  under  glass  with 
us.  Upon  the  plateau,  as  we  see  them  here  at  this 
ancient  Tripolis,  or  triple  city,  is  a  half  mile  of 
olives.  These  furnish  the  indispensable  oil  for  the 
human  system.  Commerce  had  here  once  her 
splendid  ports,  among  which  are  Tyre  and  Sidon, 
and  this  city  of  Tripolis. 

From  these  dry  mountains  and  meagre  ports, 
where  the  rocks,  rifts,  and  runnels,  marshes,  mead- 
ows and  mounds  alternate,  went  out  the  swarms 
of  men,  for  commerce,  to  Carthage,  Cadiz,  and 
London. 

The  performance,  as  we  are  about  to  depart 
from  Tripolis,  is  a  nocturnal  tragedy  and  comedy 


!88  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

of  unusual  excitement.  It  had  a  variety  in  its 
persona,  and  the  scene  was  the  grand  mountains 
of  the  Lebanon,  Captain  Thomas  being  manager, 
and  ever  so  many  costumed  groups  and  races  as 
supernumeraries.  A  Greek  woman  had  lost  an 
infant.  The  time  had  come  to  bury  it  in  the  sea, 
but  with  no  persuasion  would  she  give  it  up.  She 
had  suckled  it  upon  a  dry  breast,  and  it  had  starved 
to  death.  Our  Pasha's  daughter  had  been  in  con- 
sultation for  various  remedies,  in  vain.  The  little 
Greek — Pericles  it  had  been  named — must  find  its 
final  cradle  in  the  blue  depths.  Looking  down, 
along  with  Madame  Essad,  into  the  gloom  of  the 
after-deck,  we  saw  the  little  white  bundle  wrested 
from  the  arms  and  breast  of  the  mother.  The  lan- 
tern of  the  first  officer  lit  up  the  sad  picture  like 
that  of  a  Rembrandt.  The  sweet  gray  eyes  of  the 
young  Turkish  mother  were  dim  with  tears,  and 
even  so  obdurate  a  person  as  myself  could  not  re- 
frain from  weeping.  With  the  murderers  sent  to 
their  prison  on  shore,  and  the  wail  of  the  Hebrews 
— children  of  misery  and  double  exile — there  came 
upon  the  air  the  strange  Arabic  prayers  of  the 
Cossack  Moslems.  Slowly  they  move  their  heads 
around  as  they  pray,  their  eyes  looking  upward  for 
the  Unseen,  and  placing  their  hands  to  their  ears 
as  if  the  all-audient  One  was  listening  to  their 
praise  of  his  name  and  that  of  his  prophet.  The 
Russian  Consul-General  at  Beirut — decorated  for 
a  hundred  benefactions — comes  upon  the  scene. 
He  has  been  up  among  the  cedars  of  Lebanon, 
and  has  ridden'  all  day  down  the  mountains  to 
meet  this  vessel.  He  says  to  us  : 

"  Directly  the  lights  will   burst    from  the   Leb- 
anon !     It  is  the  anniversary  of  the  finding  of  the 


MOSLEM  AT   PRAYER. 


ASIA   AND  ITS  INHABITANTS.  jgg 

Saviour's  body !  The  Greek  Christians  of  the 
Lebanon  will  thus  hail  each  other  by  this  '  fiery 
cross,'  which  will  burn  in  every  village  for  twenty 
miles  around." 

Soon,  as  if  lit  by  an  electric  impulse,  the  Leb- 
anon flung  out  its  beacons,  and  the  mountains  put 
on  their  festal  fiery  garments  for  the  splendid  dis-1 
play  !  Before  the  curtain  was  dropped  upon  this 
scene,  with  the  tumultuous  hubbub  on  board  and 
on  the  bay,  there  was  much  commotion  among  the 
many-costumed  people  on  the  lower  decks.  After 
a  thousand  boxes  of  oranges  and  lemons  had  been 

o 

taken  on  board  and  the  widow's  cruse  had  been 
re-illustrated  by  more  and  more  jars  of  olive-oil ; 
after  our  ship  had  been  packed  above  and  below 
deck,  with  cattle,  swung  on  from  the  lighters  by 
their  horns  and  a  derrick ;  after  five  hundred 
sheep — ten  at  a  time,  tied  by  their  forelegs — had 
been  snugged  away,  a  Babel  of  sounds — Turkish, 
Persian,  Italian,  French,  Russian,  and  Arab — be- 
gan !  Roosters  crowed  and  cattle  lowed ;  sheep 
bahbahed  and  pigs  squealed.  The  rattle  of  the 
crane  and  winch  add  to  the  hubbub. 

"//  Capitano  !  II  Capitano  /  "  cries  a  shrill  voice. 
We  are  standing  with  the  captain  on  the  upper 
deck ;  the  mate  is  in  a  fight.  The  captain,  in  a 
Russian  brogue,  responds — to  put  the  man  off. 
He  is  thrust  down  the  gangway  in  a  twinkling.  It 
was  sad  to  see  him.  The  sun  had  crazed  him. 
He  had  no  real  grievance.  He  is  reconciled  and 
retires,  combing  his  long  hair.  He  is  a  crazed 
Greek  priest. 

Arab  airs  are  sung.  A  rush  is  made  for  our 
deck,  to  sleep  there,  as  the  night  is  hot.  "Guarda! 
Guarda !"  halloos  a  porter,  his  back  bent  under 


I90  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

loads  of  chests  and  carpets.  Soda-bottles  pop ! 
"Presto!"  (which  means  "hurry!")  cries  the  cap- 
tain. Italian  begins  here,  with  an  Arabic  tinge  to  it. 
The  mate  hurries  the  tardy  work.  Germans  come 
on  board,  and  grasp  each  other  for  "faderland." 
Our  mate  is  hoarse  with  announcing  orders,  and 
at  length,  by  the  skill  and  command  of  our  Irish 
captain,  we  are  under  weigh.  The  lights  along  the 
Lebanon  go  out.  The  solitary  palm-tree  on  a  sol- 
itary rock  of  the  harbor — an  old  landmark — is  lost 
to  view.  Roars  of  fun  and  the  hurling  of  melon 
rinds  occupy  the  jocose  Arab  boys.  The  mount- 
ains of  Lebanon  fade  into  the  night,  Jupiter  dom- 
inates the  sky,  the  Dipper  bends  its  graces  over 
the  arch,  and  we  retire — to  wake  up  in  the  harbor 
of  Beirut  I 

We  leave  the  steamer  in  the  morning,  and  are 
ensconced  in  the  hotel  on  the  cliffs,  surrounded  by 
an  amphitheatre  of  beauty. 

The  captain  calls  upon  us  in  the  afternoon. 

"  Ah !  will  you  look  at  us  as  we  go  out  this  even- 
ing !  I  shall  send  up  some  rockets  !  You  have 
been  with  us  from  Russia  down,  and  our  folks 
dislike  to  see  you  leave." 

I  reply :  "  We  have  not  loved  Russia,  nor  liked 
its  government ;  but  you  have  made  its  flag  a  com- 
fort. It  is  because  you  are— 

"An  Irishman  !"  he  exclaimed. 

"  Yes !  we  have  more  Irishmen  in  New  York 
than  you  have  in  Dublin  ;  and  whether  it  be  the 
old  capital,  Moscow,  or  the  other  great  capital, 
Constantinople,  I  feel  like  singing  an  Irish  song, 
written  by  a  reverend  Irishman." 

"  I  guess  it,"  he  exclaimed  ;  "  Father  Prout  ?" 

Yes  ;  and  this  is  the  verse.     It  was  in  my  mind 


ASIA    AND  ITS  INHABITANTS. 


191 


as  I  saw  the  Muscovite  and  Turkish  capitals,  with 
all  their  external  signs,  symbols,  and  beauties : 

"  There's  a  bell  in  Moscow, 
While  on  tower  and  kiosk,  oh  ! 

In  St.  Sophia 
The  Turkman  gets, 

And  loud  in  air 

Calls  men  to  prayer, 
From  the  tapering  summit 
Of  tall  minarets — 

I  freely  grant  them ; 

But  there's  an  anthem, 
More  clear  to  me  ; — 

'Tis  the  bells  ot  Shandon 
,     That  sound  so  grand  on 
The  pleasant  waters 

Of  the  River  Lee  ! " 

"Good-by!"  he  exclaimed;  "look  out  for  the 
rockets,"  and  he  dashed  down  from  the  balcony. 
His  boat  was  soon  moving  over  the  blue  waves  out 
of  the  harbor  of  Beirut. 

Lifting  our  glasses — for  we  had  been  drinking 
from  his  own  Crimean  wines  sent  us  in  the  morn- 
ing— we  gave  him  a  stirrup  cup.  Night  came,  but 
no  rockets.  Celtic-like,  in  the  absence  of  the  rocket, 
he  put  a  sailor  in  the  mast  to  shake  a  lantern,  as  a 
signal  of  farewell,  until  the  night  closed  over  his 
vessel,  bound  to  Egypt ! 


CHAPTER   XV. 


CITY  OF  SMYRNA—  WATERS  OF   POESY  AND  MYTHOLOGY- 
ILL-FATED    CHIOS. 


avrv, 
.—  PLATO  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL. 

FROM  the  Hotel  des  Deux  Auguste,  situated 
upon  the  quay  at  Smyrna,  we  start  on  two 
expeditions,  one  to  Ephesus  and  the  other  to  Chios 
and  the  isles  of  Greece.  There  is  much  to  see 
here  which  has  association  in  ancient  Greek  liter- 
ature, Roman  history,  and  modern  Greek  heroism. 

Each,  of  these  isles,  including  the  peninsular 
points  upon  the  Asiatic  coast,  has  gems  of  mem- 
ory —  whole  strings  of  pearls  of  thoughts.  In  fact, 
they  are  an  epos  ;  they  make  the  epic  of  all  time. 
It  is  difficult  to  believe,  as  I  look  out  upon  these 
waters  of  poesy  and  mythology,  as  dim  and  beau- 
teous in  their  remote  veil  of  fable  as  in  their  blue 
scarf  of  beauty,  that  so  much  of  human  belief  was 
here  concentrated  into  forms  that  never  die.  Po- 
etry, sculpture,  painting,  architecture,  every  art  and 
every  artist  from  Homer  to  Apelles,  whose  birth- 
places we  see  at  every  angle  and  under  every  sky, 
here  had  their  impersonification  and  apotheosis. 

What  a  civilization  that  of  the  Greeks  must  have 
been!  It  lacked  only  one  thing.  It  was  unsancti- 
fied  in  the  highest  sense.  It  may  be  that  Egypt  was 
but  the  dowager-widow  of  the  antediluvian  knowl- 

192 


WATERS  OF  POESY  AND  MYTHOLOGY. 


193 


edge ;  but  it  must  be  confessed  she  was  choice  in 
her  pupils,  and  Greece  was  her  favorite.  If  Egypt 
reflects  the  Eastern  and  Hebraic  thought,  she  was 
quick  to  cast  that  reflection  upon  Greece,  and 
thence  to  the  Scandinavian  realm,  where  the  poets 
of  Iceland  reproduced  Eastern  poetry,  and  to  the 
Irish  isle,  whose  bards  bear  a  family  resemblance 
to  Persian  poets.  Moving  along  the  Mediterra- 
nean, the  children  of  Greece  "  entwined  the  myrtle 
of  Gnidus  with  the  mistletoe  of  Gaul.  Provence 
echoed  the  Lesbian  lute  and  Teian  lyre,  and  the 
Druids  hailed  with  the  hand  of  fellowship  the 
priests  of  Jove  and  Apollo." 

I  have  spoken  of  our  trip  on  the  Russian  ves- 
sel. We  have  had  a  perpetual  feast  on  board  ;  not 
grapes,  melons,  and  Crimean  wines,  but  the  Cork 
captain.  There  are  four  hundred  passengers,  of  all 
nations.  We  two  and  the  captain  speak  English, 
barring  its  Irish  ;  but  the  Turkish  men  and  women 
have  dropped  their  exclusiveness,  and  those  of  us 
in  the  cabin  are  at  one,  and  at  home,  with  each 
other,  in  spite  of  different  languages,  prayers,  man- 
ners,' and  yashmaks  ! 

How  Smyrna  has  changed !  Instead  of  the 
rough,  open  roadstead  which  we  had  for  landing 
when  here  before,  was  a  smooth  bay  and  a  nice 
mole.  Along  the  front  of  the  city,  two  miles  or 
more,  runs  a  stone  quay.  This  is  washed  by  wild 
waves.  In  the  harbor,  where  even  after  the  Cri- 
mean war  an  Englishman  became  bankrupt  by 
trying  the  experiment  of  a  steamboat,  there  are  now 
eight  ferry  steamers — all  making  money,  and  not 
enough  accommodation  for  the  people.  Smyrna 
has  one  hundred  and  eighty  thousand.  She  is  rich 
inside  and  outside — rich  in  a  clever  cosmopolitan 


I94  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

and  composite  people.  It  is  a  varied  people,  and 
of  great  independence  and  energy.  Although 
under  Turkish  rule,  it  is  still  a  Greek  city.  Although 
full  of  the  freedom  of  trade,  the  life  of  which  is 
security,  Smyrna  has  had  feeble  protection  from  brig- 
ands outside  and  robbers  within.  Not  until  the  now 
banished  Midhat  Pasha  became  governor ;  not 
until  he  had  arrested  some  one  hundred  and  fifty 
rogues  and  took  their  photographs,  and  made  them 
give  leg  bail  or  otherwise,  did  the  Smyrniotes  have 
any  adequate  security  for  purse  or  person.  Now 
that  Midhat  has  been  exiled  into  Arabia,  and  a 
good-natured  Pasha  rules,  it  is  said  that  the  old 
insecurity  returns.  However,  we  only  give  rumors, 
for  our  experience  was  not  disastrous.* 

Thirty  years  ago,  when  we  went  on  shore  here, 
all  damp  with  the  waves,  we  were  told  not  to  ven- 
ture far  in  the  streets,  and  especially  not  upon  the 
castellated  mountain  above;  for  then  the  brigands 
had  accomplices  even  in  the  city,  who  whisked  peo- 
ple away  to  their  caves.  Our  former  experience  of 
Smyrna  was  therefore  limited  to  the  cafes  on  the 
shore.  Now  Smyrna  has  a  railroad  and  tramway. 
We  had  a  note  of  introduction  to  its  president, 
Mr.  Purser,  from  a  London  friend.  We  tried  his 
railroad,  the  Smyrna  and  Aidin  Railroad,  on  our 
way  to  Ephesus.  What  we  saw  there,  and  how  un- 
like the  experience  of  Paul  and  Timothy,  Eunice 
and  Priscilla,  to  say  nothing  of  Diana  and  Alex- 
ander the  coppersmith,  may  be  hereafter  written. 
It  is  a  day  not  to  be  written  currcnte  calamo.  On 


*  This  remark  must  be  qualified.  Since  it  was  written.  Emir  Pasha,  the 
Vali  of  Smyrna,  has  effectually  put  down  brigandage.  The  census  of  decap- 
itated heads  which  he  has  sent  to  Stamboul  has  given  him  the  name  of  the 
Iron  Vali.  Nor  does  he  spare  the  official  confederates  of  the  brigands. 


WATERS  OF  POESY  AND  MYTHOLOGY. 


195 


our  return  we  found  Mr.  Purser  at  his  beautiful 
home  near  the  station,  and  after  a  tea  in  his  gar- 
den, which  overlooks  the  gulf,  we  took  a  tramway 
for  the  hotel.  Our  Irish  captain  came  on  shore  to 
join  us  at  dinner.  After  looking  from  the  balconies 
at  the  people — many-hued  and  many-tongued — 
thronging  up  and  down  the  quay,  we  retired  to  bed 
for  the  last  land-rest  this  side  of  Beirut ;  that  is,  if 
the  earthquake  has  not  destroyed  Chios,  for  on 
Chios  we  hope  at  least  to  place  an  uncertain  foot ! 

The  next  morning  we  steamed  out  of  Smyrna 
harbor.  The  city  is  almost  inland.  Its  gulf  is  sur- 
rounded by  rocky  mountains,  meagre  of  cultivation. 
They  seem  made  of  nebulous  matter.  On  the  south 
shore  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains  are  rich  olive 
grounds,  cemeteries,  baths,  villas,  and  ruins.-  Ruins 
all  through  here — earthquake  ruins.  On  the  north 
we  perceive  pyramids  in  piles  like  snow.  They  are 
salt.  It  is  made  by  the  sun  from  the  low  and  lately- 
flooded  lowlands.  Fisheries  are  on  either  side,  in 
the  shallow  waters,  while  golden  plains  of  reaped 
wheat-fields  are  seen  upon  the  rich  delta  of  the 
ancient  Hermes  river.  Our  vessel  pursues  the 
channel  out  of  the  gulf  which  is  limited.  You 
cannot  see  the  melon  grounds,  vineyards,  olive  or- 
chards, and  orange-trees  from  the  vessel.  The 
bleak  mountains  which  bind  the  sea  give  no  prom- 
ise of  the  fruitful  inland.  We  pass  near  Chustan 
Island,  where  the  other  day  there  was  a  shake-up 
that  was  both  fearful  and  destructive.  In  fact,  all 
these  shores  and  isles,  including  Smyrna  itself,  and 
doubtless  Ephesus,  by  its  sorry  look,  have  had  their 
little  turn  at  an  earthquake  or  so.  Then  we  boldly 
push  for  the  Karabournon  peninsula.  We  round 
its  magnificent,  dreamy  mountain-heights,  making 


196 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


for  suffering  Chios,  the  scene  of  the  great  earth- 
quake of  last  spring,  the  argumentum  ad  miscricor- 
diam  of  all  time. 

"Do  you  see  these  two  splendid  peaks?"  asks 
the  captain,  as  he  opens  the  chart  and  points  to  the 
"  Two  Sisters."  "  Their  guardians  near  are  the 
'Three  Brothers  ! '  Notice  how  the  pilot  steers  by 
them  !  That  point  yonder  will  be  in  line  with  the 
depression  between  the  two  ! " 

So  it  is.  We  pass  fishermen  in  their  boats, 
with  painted  sails.  How  queerly  they  seem,  far  off 
here — these  Levantine  fishers — with  their  churches 
and  saints  painted  in  red  upon  their  sails,  as  if  bent 
on  a  sainted  gala  day  ! 

"We  will  soon  see  Chios,"  says  the  captain. 
"When  I  went  there,  just  after  the  earthquake,  it 
was  rumored  in  Constantinople  that  our  vessel  was 
lost,  as  the  fire  had  shoved  up  some  of  the  dirty 
bottom,  and  my  steamer  had  gone  upon  the  newly- 
made  volcanic  rocks.  Ah  !  didn't  I  feel  my  way 
neatly  with  the  lead,  when  we  sailed  into  the  uncer- 
tain harbor.  When  I  landed,  ah  !  what  a  stench  of 
dead  bodies !  Cologne  and  ammonia  were  of  no 
use.  One-third  of  the  bodies  remained  under  the 
ruins.  But  we  will  see  !  I  will  go  on  shore  with 
you  and  your  wife  ;  for  we  will  stay  in  the  harbor 
for  some  hours.  We  have  plenty  of  charitable  lum- 
ber to  land  for  the  poor  folks,  who  are  rebuilding 
the  waste  places  !  God  help  them  ! " 

At  last,  at  two  in  the  afternoon,  Chios,  the  ill- 
starred,  is  in  sight.  As  if  she  had  not  glory  enough 
in  giving  birth  to  "the  blind  old. man  of  Scio's  rocky 
isle,"  she  must  add  to  the  great  epic  a  fiery  ordeal 
and  tragedy.  The  isle  is  only  about  the  size  of  a 
New  York  county,  thirty-two  by  eighteen  miles, 


WATERS  OF  POESY  AND  MYTHOLOGY.  197 

but  It  is  big  with  renown !  Cut  off  by  a  narrow 
strait  from  Asia,  it  looms  upon  the  vision  in  three- 
fold mountainous  magnificence.  As  we  near  it  a 
breeze  blows  down  the  strait  from  the  north-west. 
How  do  I  ascertain  this  point  of  the  compass? 
Not  alone  by  the  red,  blue,  and  white  Russian  en- 
sign, whose  double  eagle  dallies  with  the  wind  and 
scorns  the  sun  ;  not  from  the  white  plumes  which 
shine  upon  the  cloven  helmet  of  the  wave,  but  from 
the  dozen  Moslems  on  the  deck,  who,  with  unfail- 
ing piety,  turn,  by  starlight  or  sunlight,  toward 
Mecca,  and  "  compass  "  our  thought.  One  of  these 
Moslems  is  a  soldier,  three  are  Caucasians,  one  an 
I  man,  or  priest,  and  all  are  pilgrims  bound  to 
Mecca.  As  Chios  is  more  clearly  sighted,  one  of 
this  number  calls  to  prayers !  It  is  the  Moolah. 
How  strange  and  audacious  his  call,  on  this 
steamer  of  civilization !  Soon  the  carpets  are 
upon  the  deck,  and  the  genuflections  and  mono- 
tones of  the  pilgrims  begin.  Ending  their  prayers 
with  a  splendid  climax,  and  then  pulling  on  their 
slippers,  they,  too,  fake  a  curious  look  at  the  cele- 
brated and  ill-fated  island. 

This  isle  is  known  to  the  Mohammedans,  not  for 
its  wine,  for  they  are  abstinent  ;  not  for  its  figs,  for 
other  places  are  more  prolific ;  not  for  its  silk,  for 
silken  Broussa  outvies  all  these  isles  ;  but  for  its 
mastic,  the  product  of  the  lentisk  tree,  which,  when 
incised,  drops  its  gum  about  the  middle  of  August. 
When  refined,  it  is  used  by  the  Levantine  females, 
who  are  too  languid  to  knit  like  Penelope,  but  not 
too  lazy  to  chew.  It  is  to  the  female  what  tobacco 
is  to  our  sex.  It  also  makes  liquor.  This  gum 
was  the  chief  source  of  revenue  to  the  mother  of 
the  Sultan,  and  the  isle  is  said  to  have  had  some 


198 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


political  and  other  advantages    by  reason  of  this 
peculiar  product. 

As  we  draw  nearer  to  this  isle,  I  look  about  to 
see  the  terrible  work  of  the  earthquake.  What  a 
catastrophe  for  ever  so  little  a  tremble  !  Looking 
away  to  the  east  for  a  moment,  the  mainland  appears 
a  rocky  reach  of  high,  clear-lined  mountains.  They 
are  streaked  with  dark  lines  and  vales.  Beyond 
and  above  Scio  the  shade  and  sunlight  alternate, 
and  at  the  base  of  the  mountains  there  are  flat,  green 
spots,  deltas  of  mountain  streams.  A  few  villages 
are  scattered  along.  The  city  of  Castro  itself,  which 
once  contained  thirty  thousand  people,  was  the  cap- 
ital of  the  island  when  it  had  one  hundred  and  ten 
thousand.  This  was  before  the  Greek  revolution 
of  1822.  It  now  looks  like  a  shriveled,  twisted 
skeleton.  Its  very  sea-walls  give  token  of  its  shat- 
tered condition.  As  we  approach  still  nearer,  we 
perceive  a  hundred  vessels  in  the  harbor,  if  it  may 
be  called  one  by  courtesy.  The  mountains  above 
now  seem  topped  by  palisades,  and  still  above  them, 
and  remote,  are  other  dreamy  Grecian  mountains, 
full  of  myths  and  with  little  specks  of  green,  where 
dryads  and  olives,  and  Pan  and  Nature  once  lurked. 
The  sea  never  looked  so  blue  in  its  bonnets  of 
white.  The  ragged  sea-walls  give  a  still  more  des- 
olate look  to  the  harbor,  to  which  the  demolished 
castle  adds  its  sad  aspect.  The  city  looks  like  a 
disordered  body  holding  a  crazy  mind.  There  are 
trees  amidst  the  ruins.  They  give  even  to  the  deso- 
lation a  sort  of  sylvan  Grecian  beauty  ;  for  trees  are 
now  rare  on  these  denuded  Grecian  isles.  Now,  as 
we  come  still  nearer,  the  waves  are  seen  to  make 
cascades  over  and  channels  through  the  broken 
mole.  Some  windmills  fly  their  sails  on  the  lowest 


WATERS   OF  POESY  AND  MYTHOLOGY. 


199 


lands.  A  few  other  sails  on  the  steadier  element— 
the  sea — ply  their  winged  work  in  front  of  the 
harbor. 

We  are  now  in  the  ruined  city  of  Chios.  Before 
we  left  our  ship  the  captain  promised  to  go  on 
shore  with  us.  But  he  says  that  it  is  too  risky,  as 
this  is  an  open  roadstead  and  there  is  a  fresh  wind. 
"  There  maybe  a  sudden  blast,"  he  says,  "  from  the 
cave  of  /Eolus,  and  I  could  not,  in  such  a  case,  for 
love  or  money,  get  a  boat  from  the  shore  to  the 
ship."  If  we  would  risk  it,  he  would  see  madam 
safely  down  the  gangway.  The  truth  was,  that 
the  boats  which  were  dancing  their  highest  flings 
about  us,  and  whose  oarsmen  were  vending  their 
mastic  about  us  and  on  board,  were  too  small ;  and 
their  men  were  not  able  to  speak  either  English, 
French,*  or  Irish!  The  captain  was  equal  to 
the  occasion,  and  when  the  agent  of  the  Russian 
line  came  on  board,  he  arranged  it  so  that  we  went 
with  the  agent.  As  we  left,  our  steward,  Sim- 
eon, cried  out,  "Belle  promenade /"  and  we  dancedi 
shoreward.  We  called  back,  "Au  fevoir;"  but  we 
left  the  ship  with  some  misgivings.  The  agent  at 
length  found  us  a  Greek  who  spoke  English.  He 
is  one  of  the  committee  who  have  the  funds  in 
charge  for  the  poor  and  houseless  people.  We 
found  him  exceedingly  courteous  and  useful.  Un- 
der his  guidance  we  threaded  the  ruins  and  escaped 
the  dangerous  places,  where  the  walls  yet  hang  by 
a  brick  or  a  stone,  awaiting  a  fresh  shudder  of 
Mother  Earth.  As  we  reached  the  landing  we 
perceived  wooden  sheds  for  market-places  and  eat- 
ing-houses, and  some  five  hundred  people  eating, 
moving  about,  and  chattering  as  none  but  Greeks 
jabber.  They  seemed  to  act  as  if  the  isle  were  fast 


200  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

anchored,  and  that  there  would  be  no  more  om- 
inous "strange  noises;"  although  only  two  weeks 
ago  another  terrible  shock  tumbled  down  many  of 
the  remaining  buildings,  and  only  last  night  there 
was  another  slight  shock,  which  awakened  my  wife 
in  Smyrna,  so  that  she  arose  and  reeled  about  to 
the  window  in  her  bewilderment  to  see  what  was 
up  —  whether  Ephesus,  or  Paul,  or  Eunice,  or 
Diana,  or  Timothy,  or  "a  call  of  the  House"  in 
Washington ! 

We  move  amidst  the  eager  crowds.  They  are 
in  the  Greek  costume.  We  are  not  reminded  of 
Homer  or  his  heroes,  but  we  are  reminded  of  the 
old  contest  of  1822,  '23,  and  '24  against  Turkey, 
and  of  the  destruction  of  this  Hellenic  people  in 
that  era  of  diabolism,  when  twenty-five  thousand 
Sciotes  were  massacred,  and  forty  thousand  were 
sent  into  horrible  slavery  worse  than  death ;  for 
the  trumpets  sound  from  the  dismantled  castle  and 
barracks,  and  the  Turkish  soldier  appears  on  guard 
amidst  the  ruins !  That  splendid  building  yonder, 
as  yet  but  partially  in  ruins,  is  another  reminder. 
Near  is  a  minaret,  and  we  know  its  owner  to  be 
Turkish ;  and  to  be  a  Turk  here,  is  to  be  a  monster 
worse  than  the  earthquake  or  the  plagues. 

These  patriotic  trials,  fifty  years  or  more  ago,  were 
more  devastating  than  the  catastrophe  of  God  !  Of 
the  one  hundred  and  ten  thousand  who  peopled  this 
island  in  1822 — after  the  war  was  ended  by  the  del- 
uge of  blood — there  were  but  two  thousand  Greeks 
left  on  the  isle,  and  only  fifteen  thousand  escaped 
into  exile !  Dearly,  however,  did  the  Turks  pay 
for  their  cruelty ;  for  one  dash  of  courage  of  the 
olden  tiite  when  Leonidas  lived,  came  to  the  res- 
cue, when  Canaris  and  his  little  crew  of  thirty-three 


WATERS  OF  POESY  AND  MYTHOLOGY.  2oi 

destroyed  by  a  fire-ship  the  large  Turkish  vessel  at 
Chios,  with  its  two  thousand  Turks,  who  perished 
by  flame  and  water!  So  that  this  Homeric  isle  has 
had  its  wild  history,  compared  with  which  the  calam- 
ity of  the  22d  of  March  last  is  insignificant.  Yet 
even  then  there  were  seven  thousand  lives  lost,  and 
as  many  more  injured.  This  is  ascertained,  although 
there  is  much  exaggeration,  and  considerable  doubt 
as  to  how  many  yet  lie  under  the  debris.  We  wan- 
dered over  broken  bricks,  stones,  and  timbers  for 
an  hour  or  more.  Some  of  the  houses  yet  stand, 
with  their  gaps  and  cracks,  unfit  for  residence. 
Others  have  their  foundations  turned  up  by  the  vol- 
canic forces,  and  their  walls  lean  perilously  against 
other  walls,  in  grim  disorder.  The  "  Court-house" 
was  tumbled  to  pieces.  It  was  a  large  building  of 
two  stories.  Upon  the  ruins,  and  regardless  of  old 
boundary  lines,  shanties  are  being  built  of  wood, 
and  some  better  houses  of  sun-dried  brick  and 
frames,  all  low  and  one-storied.  Donkeys  and 
mules  are  carrying  in  their  panniers  fresh  materials. 
Masons  and  carpenters  are  sweating  in  the  sun, 
for  the  people  must  have  shelter  before  winter. 
The  old  wooden  structures  were  saved.  A  few 
Greek  priests,  in  their  black  robes,  and  tall,  rimless, 
black  hats,  are  moving  about ;  while  strange  orien- 
tal faces,  with  huge,  black,  sad  eyes,  and  brown  faces, 
peep  from  window  and  door  at  us  under  our  um- 
brellas, as  we  survey  the  ruins.  There  are  manytents 
on  the  grounds.  They  remind  me  of  the  day  after 
the  fire  I  once  saw  at  Truckee,  on  the  top  of  the 
Sierras.  Everything  seems  improvised.  There 
are  signs  of  life,  however,  quite  usual.  Pigeons 
flutter  in  the  ruins,  birds  carol,  ducks  squawk,  hens 
cluck,  and  roosters  crow,  cats  move  about  noise- 


2O2 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


lessly  and  mew  a  little,  as  if  fearful  of  something, 
and  donkeys  are  heard  from  ! 

I  ask  the  guide,  Chooralos,  "Did  the  animals 
make  any  outcry  when  the  earthquake  gave  its  pre- 
monition, or  afterward  ?  " 

"You  should,"  he  said,  "have  heard  them  sound 
their  songs  of  despair.  It  was  at  one  o'clock  in 
the  daytime  when  the  shocks  began.  The  shocks 
made  a  noise — a  whirring  noise,  and  the  upheaval 
was  followed  by  a  horizontal  motion  ;  but  come 
with  me  to  the  monastery.  There  the  worst  is 
seen ! " 

So  we  followed  Chooralos  up  the  winding  way 
amidst  the  rubbish  and  clutter,  the  lime,  logs,  and 
stone,  to  St.  Felici's.  This  was  a  Capuchin  Cath- 
olic monastery.  It  suffered  terribly.  On  the 
threshold,  if  threshold  it  may  be  called  where  noth- 
ing of  form  and  only  chaos  was  distinguishable,  we 
are  met  by  a  priest  of  the  Capuchin  order.  He 
looked  odd  and  good.  Over  his  cap  he  had  an  old 
straw  hat  with  a  splendid  brim,  and  under  that  a 
brunette  face  that  beamed  with  goodness.  He  was 
Italian.  When  we  were  introduced  as  Americans 
he  seemed  to  think  we  were  friends.  He  is  and 
Avas  the  head  of  the  order  here.  His  monastery  is 
in  ruins.  He  is  loth  to  leave  it.  No  wonder.  It 
\vas  but  a  few  months  ago  a  delight,  in  a  physical 
as  well  as  in  a  spiritual  sense.  Now,  although  the 
monastery  is  in  ruins,  there  are  the  almond-trees, 
tho  grape-vines,  the  oranges,  the  olives,  and  other 
lovely  shades  and  greeneries  remaining.  Father 
Antonio  could  not — cannot  leave  them.  The  don- 
key is  still  pumping  water  with  a  creaking  wheel 
from  the  wells  to  feed  the  trees  with  moisture. 
The  old  clock,  which  stopped  with  the  shock,  now 


WATERS  OF  POESY  AND  MYTHOLOGY. 


203 


goes  on  as  before.  The  cisterns  remain,  but  "  they 
hold  no  water."  Dust  and  lime,  stones  and  brick — 
through  them,  piles  on  piles,  we  wind  our  sad  way 
till  the  good  father  takes  us  down  into  the  dis- 
mantled church.  Here  his  vivacity  gives  way. 
What  a  picture  is  this  once  exquisite  chapel ! 
The  pulpit  is  now  broken  and  the  walls  rent.  The 
blue  ceiling,  with  its  golden  stars,  a  pretty  mockery 
of  the  yEgean  nocturnal  heaven,  is  twisted  and 
cracked  ;  the  hands  above  the  altar,  once  folded 
below  the  sacred  cross,  are  all  awry  ;  but  the  spirit  is 
still  there,  for  there  was  the  good  Antonio  still  min- 
istering !  The  pieces  of  the  altar  were  rescued  and 
removed  to  his  own  little  room,  which  he  showed  us. 

"  See  my  bed  ! "  he  said,  as  he  pointed  to  an  old 
cupboard,  which  he  had  used  to  sleep  in  out  of 
doors  during  the  continuance  of  the  shocks. 

"Are  you  not  still  apprehensive?"  I  inquired. 

"  No,  for  the  engineer  says  that  I  can  remain 
here  now  in  safety." 

"What  engineer  is  thus  authorized  ?"  I  asked. 

The  question  gave  him  pause  ;  and  I  pointed 
to  the  motto  above  his  broken  altar,  whose  broken 
stone,  lath,  and  plaster  were  all  too  apparent. 

"  Coronati  Triumpha  !  "  He  smiled  sadly  as  he 
repeated  it  in  soft  Italian.  He  went  out  of  his  lit- 
tle room,  amidst  the  ruins,  and  bid  us  wait  a  mo- 
ment, for  he  would  like  us  to  take  a  drop  of  mastic 
—or  lemonade — with  him.  This  we  did,  and, 
leaving  a  little  gold  to  help  him  with  the  poor  and 
destitute,  we  bid  him  a  sad  good-by.  Then  we 
wended  our  way  amidst  the  ruins  to  the  top  of  the 
tower — so  as  to  overlook  the  disaster.  It  was  sad, 
sad,  sad  enough.  Over  one  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  pounds  sterling,  they  say,  have  been 


204  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

raised  to  rebuild  and  resuscitate.     It  is  but  feeble 
help.     However,  it  shows  sympathy. 

The  steamer  whistles  us  aboard.  We  go  to  the 
hospitals,  and  thence  through  a  part  of  the  city 
which  seems  at  first  look  to  be  inhabited.  I  lift  the 
knocker  of  one  of  the  beautiful  houses  upon  a 
street  whose  mosaic  of  white  and  black  pebbles  is 
as  elegant  as  a  Pompeii  pavement,  and  as  clean  as 
that  of  a  Dutch  town.  An  empty  echo  is  all  that 
we  hear.  Not  a  soul  on  this  long,  pretty  street  of 
fashion  and  wealth — all  deserted  !  Then  we  go 
down  to  the  barracks.  The  oleander  trees  are 
blushing  with  flowers.  We  would  pluck  a  flower  or 
so.  A  Turkish  bayonet  says  "  no,"  and  we  retreat 
to  the  quay.  But  our  boat  does  not  come  from 
the  ship.  We  hire  one.  I  take  the  helm.  The 
madam  is  not  certain  of  my  maritime  prowess  and 
skill.  I  may  not  sleep,  like  Palinurus,  but  I  may 
rush  on  the  broken  walls,  or  there  may  be  sunken 
reefs  or  lifted  rocks  in  this  uncertain  land  and  sea. 
The  sea  runs  wild  and  high.  We  are  not  alarmed. 
Have  we  not  been  to  the  North  Cape  ?  We  are 
perceived  by  the  captain  at  last,  as  we  are  dancing 
away  from  the  earthquake-rocked  shores,  on  a  very 
uncertain  blue  water.  We  are  on  board.  "  Thank 
God  ! "  I  said,  as  I  had  said  before  when  we  came 
safely  out  of  other  perils.  We  may  still  live  to  see 
Jerusalem !  The  mastic  we  bought  is  packed  in 
the  little  classic  jars  as  souvenirs  of  this  Homeric 
and  quaking  isle  ;  the  breeze  blows  more  briskly 
from  the  north,  and  our  steamer  speeds  on,  till  a 
beautiful  red  and  golden  canopy  covers  us  at  even- 
ing between  Nicavia  and  Samos,  and  sleep  comes 
to  us,  as  a  great  relief  from  a  sad  observation  and 
a  vivid  experience. 


WATERS  OF  POESY  AND  MYTHOLOGY. 


205 


Since  leaving  Chios  the  market  for  real  estate  has 
not  steadied.  The  isle  is  sinking.  Hot  springs  are 
appearing.  One  result  upon  which  the  Grecian 
world  is  to  be  congratulated  will  be  that  the  seduc- 
tive liquor  of  the  isle,  raki,  will  be  no  more.  The 
Eastern  epicure  will  regret,  but  the  temperance 
societies  of  the  Orient  will  rejoice. 

The  isle  of  Homer  may  not  last.     Homer  will. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

AN  EPHESIAN  DAY. 

Where  is  thy  sacred  fane,  proud  Ephesus  ! 
Raised  to  the  honor  of  Latona's  child? 
Like  as  the  ship  by  stormy  billows  riv'n, 
Sinks  in  the  vortex  of  the  whirling  wave  y 
So  the  bright  emblem  of  Ionia's  state 
Shall  sink,  confounded,  in  the  mighty  deep  ! 

— SIBYL,  Orac.,Lib.  v.  v.,  293-305. 

EOTH EN,  whose  volume  about  the  East  was 
quite  the  fashion  a  quarter  of  a  century 
ago,  dismisses  the  "Ruins  of  Baalbec"in  a  half 
dozen  lines.  He  preferred  that  his  readers  should 
hold  fast  to  their  own  dim  meaning  of  the  glorious 
sounds  and  airy  phantasies  which  gather  about  those 
ruins.  He  disdained  to  give  tall  columns  and  their 
measurements  in  phrases  built  of  ink.  It  is  with 
some  such  vague  and  solemn  thoughts  that  I  have 
been  occupied  about  the  ruins  of  Ephesus.  It  has 
been  impossible  to  settle  down  even  to  the  inci- 
dents of  the  eventful  day,  so  as  to  describe  them 
for  the  gratification  and  information  of  friends. 
Other  adventures  have  intervened — an  earthquake 
or  so ;  a  dozen  isles  of  Greece  upshouldering  their 
rocky  crests  into  a  sky  of  light  and  heat,  and  full 
of  vague  poesies  and  dim  thoughts  of  yore  and 
lore ;  and  the  beautiful,  untainted  azure  of  this 
y^gean  Sea  of  marvels,  not  to  speak  of  groves  ten- 
anted by  old  religions,  and  strange,  calm  men  of 

206 


AN  EPHESIAN  DA  Y. 


207 


the  East,  and  strange  muffled  women,  who  follow 
them  so  tranquilly;  but  these  interventions  are 
only  those  of  time,  and  the  thought  will  wreak 
itself  even  in  imperfect  expression. 

A  day  in  Ephesus  !  Ah  !  could  we  but  revert  to 
the  elder  day  of  this  prime  city  of  Grecian  art, 
Roman  power,  and  apostolic  eloquence — what  a 
day  it  woTild  be  !  Instead  of  a  population  of 
twelve  camels  and  three  persons,  and  four  visitors, 
two  from  the  Great  Republic,  "  further  west  "  than 
the  "  isles  of  the  blest "  of  Grecian  sires — what  a 
day  could  have  been  passed  two  thousand  years 
ago  at  Ephesus!  In  gymnasium,  odeon,  theatre, 
shop,  palace,  courts,  and  temples,  what  a  throng  of 
living  wonders  !  How  many  people  among  them 
then  ?  and  now  but  a  few  camels  and  their  drivers, 
and  one  "  solitary  horseman "  besides  ourselves, 
tramping  under  a  fiery  sun,  through  tangled  grasses 
and  prickly  weeds,  over  broken  columns  and  pul- 
verized remains,  down  to  a  now  waterless  bay,  with 
an  extinct  custom-house  and  an  exchange  where  no 
voice  is  heard  save  that  of  a  solitary  sweet-throated 
bird!  Looking  down  the  departed  centuries,  and 
into  the  excavated  pits  where  the  skeleton  of  the 
great  temple  lies  in  its  mutilated  shroud  of  dust, 
what  a  crowd  of  bewildering  thoughts  arise  ! 

This,  in  short,  is  the  impression  of  that  city 
whose  praises  are  the  theme  of  classic  history,  and 
where  the  great  Apostle  of  the  Gentiles  made  his 
tribune  for  two  years,  and  made  even  the  smiths, 
ever  a  numerous  tribe  of  skilled  handicraft,  led  by 
Demetrius,  forget  their  cunning  and  cry  out  for 
their  imperiled  business. 

It  is  hard  to  believe  that  the  fresh  blue  waves  of 
this  sea  ever  washed  the  suburb  of  the  grand  old 


2o8  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

city.  It  is  hard  to  believe  that  its  now  shoreless 
plain  was  once  an  inlet  of  liquid  beauty,  picturing- at 
evening  the  twin  mountains  which  made  double  the 
Ephesian  acropolis;  for  now  the  plain  is  but  a 
gloomy  shore,  and  the  disjecta  membra  of  these 
stadia,  theatres,  and  temples  have  not  even  the 
honor  of  the  ivy,  nor  have  its  arched  aqueducts 
any  longer  the  glory  of  the  sparkling  stream,  nor 
its  lone  pillars  the  elder  haughtiness  of  imperial 
greatness ! 

These  thoughts  are  too  dim  for  translation  into 
English.  The  American  reader  will  demand  the 
measurements  of  the  Temple  of  Diana,  and  the 
number  of  seats  of  the  theatre  into  which  the  silver- 
smiths rushed  to  raise  a  riot  against  the  great  ora- 
tor from  Tarsus,  and  the  very  number  matriculated 
in  the  "  school  of  one  Tyrannus,"  where  the  Apos- 
tle disputed  daily  of  immortality  and  salvation 
through  his  Great  Master  of  Nazareth. 

Must  I,  then,  begin  with  our  journey  in  its  de- 
tails ?  And  must  the  Turk  in  his  turban — the 
present  degenerate  keeper  of  these  relics  of  old — 
sit,  as  usual,  for  his  photograph  ?  Yes.  There  is 
no  other  way  to  bring  Ephesus  and  the  Ephesians 
home  to  our  people. 

It  has  been  one  of  our  special  hopes,  in  our  long 
journey,  to  follow  "  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  "  in 
their  movements  along  these  highways  and  shores  ; 
and,  coming  into  Smyrna  (one  of  the  seven 
churches\  and  hearing  of  Philadelphia,  Sardis,  Lao- 
dicea,  and  other  lamps  of  the  early  faith,  as  if  quite 
near  to  our  very  feet,  it  would  have  been  a  remedi- 
less hiatus  had  we  not  sought  out,  at  some  risk,  at 
least,  the  ruins  of  one  of  the  scenes  of  the  holiest 
of  religions. 


AN  EPHESIAN  DA  Y. 


209 


It  is  St.  Paul's  second  missionary  route  that  we 
follow,  with  some  observations,  physical  and  other- 
wise. After  leaving  Corinth  he  sailed  into  Syria. 
He  visited  Ephesus  ;  then  he  went  to  Caesarea  ; 
and  thence  to  Jerusalem.  After  that  he  proceeded 
to  Antioch.  But  much  of  his  missionary  work  was 
here  at  Ephesus.  It  was  then  full  of  Jews,  and 
quite  Oriental.  The  people  listened  to  him  there 
for  two  years.  He  warned  them  without  ceasing, 
and  with  tears.  The  seven  churches  received  from 
him  here  comfort  and  ministration.  He  worked 
miracles  at  Ephesus,  and  rebuked  sorcery  and  idol- 
atry. The  mystic  Ephesian  letters  lost  their  magic, 
and  the  Word  grew  mightily.  Johannine  disciples 
were  numerous.  They  were  enlightened  and  bap- 
tized with  the  Holy  Ghost.  But  these  successes 
did  not  prevent  the  uproar  in  the  theatre.  The 
bears  got  the  advantage,  and  silver  shrines  fell  in 
the  market.  A  mob  was  the  result.  It  is  the  old 
story  :  Greed  versus  Goodness. 

As  I  look  back  on  this  day  of  delight,  I  wonder 
that  I  undertook  it.  True,  our  friend  the  presi- 
dent of  the  railroad  had  advised  that  the  trip  was 
safe  and  healthy ;  but  we  were  early  in  the  season, 
the  heat  was  still  intense,  the  Syrian  fever  still  dan- 
gerous, and,  as  there  was  no  police  yet  organized 
for  the  vicinity,  it  was  perilous  in  another  way, 
which  was  not  to  be  forgotten  by  one  having  re- 
gard to  another's  safety.  Brigands  are  not  the 
creatures  of  romantic  fancy  in  and  around  Smyrna, 
or  in  the  waste  places  of  the  coast  and  mountain. 
Within  a  few  weeks  captives  have  been  made  and 
ransom  money  demanded.  Our  lady  friend  from 
Troy,  on  the  steamer,  had  a  brother  seized  upon  his 
farm  (to  his  cost  $7,500)  ;  and  what  would  be  the 


210  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

ransom  for  a  live  congressman,  to  say  nothing  of 
his  precious  wife — and  that,  too,  at  a  time  when 
parties  are  so  nearly  divided,  and  one  vote,  how- 
ever humble,  is  worth  so  much ! 

However,  we  made  our  provision,  through  the 
aid  of  an  honest  dragoman,  a  Hebrew,  Ibrahim  by 
name.  He  met  us  on  the  steamer  at  six  in  the 
morning,  and  at  once  we  were  under  his  care  ashore, 
a  breakfast  served,  a  lunch  arranged,  and  by  nine 
o'clock  we  were  at  the  depot,  via  a  tramway,  and 
ready  for  Ephesus. 

This  railway  is  built  by  English  capital  and  skill. 
It  runs  near  the  old  city,  and  beyond  it  into  and 
through  a  country  of  surprising  richness  and  devel- 
opment for  Asia.  Quite  a  load  of  passengers,  two- 
thirds  in  loose  clothes  and  turbans,  started  with  us. 
We  wound  up  out  of  the  town,  under  the  shadow 
of  Mount  Tagus,  upon  which  there  is  a  splendid 
Genoese  castle,  in  partial  ruins.  We  pass,  upon 
our  upward  way,  through  the  valley  of  a  mountain 
river,  the  Maries.  Its  waters  are  used  for  irriga- 
tion on  its  downward  way,  and  for  the  city  thirst. 
The  cypress  stands  in  tall  array  about  elegant  cem- 
eteries, and  over  walls  we  perceive  mulberries, 
olives,  and  figs.  We  stop  at  the  camel  caravan 
ctation  for  a  time,  where  we  observe  these  patient 
ships  of  the  desert  loading  and  unloading. 

"  What  is  it  that  those  black  horse-hair  sacks 
contain?"  we  inquire  of  Ibrahim. 

"  Figs.  Figs  to  be  cured  and  packed  and  sent 
over  the  world." 

These  sacks  are  in  such  numbers  as  to  excite 
attention  above  all  other  products — at  least,  now, 
when  the  crop  is  arriving.  It  is  an  unusual  crop — 
180,000  of  these  sacks,  worth  $15  each;  nearly 


AN  EP  HE  SI  AN  DAY.  21 1 

double  the  crop  of  the  previous  year,  as  we  are 
told.  This  railroad  runs  into  and  near,  but  not 
through  or  beyond,  the  great  fig-land  of  Asia.  Be- 
yond Aidin  the  orchards  just  begin,  and  the  work  of 
the  camel  is  there  still  indispensable.  Dryness  and 
sandy  soil  help  the  fig  ;  and  this  garden  of  Asia 
Minor  lies  along  the  meandering  Meander,  which 
has  a  history  and  a  philology  of  more  interest  than 
its  thousands  of  sacks  of  figs.  The  railroad  is  yet 
to  be  run  into  this  dale  of  beauty  and  plenty. 
There  is  one  impediment.  Its  president  tells  me 
that  the  Arabs  have  an  irrepressible  impulse  to 
throw  stones  into  the  cars  and  to  place  them  on 
the  track ;  not  so  much  out  of  malice  or  opposition 
to  the  advancement  of  our  locomotive  age  by  steam, 
as  curiosity  to  see  some  astounding  results.  It  is 
their  mode  of  acquiring  intelligence.  Still,  with  a 
growing  commerce  of  imports  and  exports,  now 
amounting  to  near  a  hundred  millions  of  dollars  in 
Smyrna,  it  is  not  to  be  expected  that  a  few  Arabs 
can  get  rid  of  advancing  instrumentalities  by  throw- 
ing stones. 

As  we  rise  upon  the  heights  above  Smyrna,  camels 
are  seen  in  motion  and  at  rest.  It  is  curious  to  see 
their  motions  when  they  sit  down.  They  make  as 
.many  motions  as  a  new  member  of  Congress  before 
he  is  sat  upon.  Some  of  them  look  cross  in  being 
loaded,  and  make  ugly  motions  with  head  and  neck, 
and  show  their  pretty  teeth.  Along  the  roaa  we 
see  small  huts,  covered  with  straw ;  and  in  the 
melon-patches  and  vineyards  improvised  booths, 
under  branches,  where  the  watchful  owners  repose. 
The  grapes  are  nearly  all  white  and  very  sweet. 
They  lack  the  size  and  flavor  of  the  Chousa  of 
Constantinople,  which  the  honey-bees  feed  upon 


2I2  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

and  follow  from  their  hillsides  along  Marmora  to 
the  city  stalls.  Still,  these  grapes  are  grapes  of  the 
sun,  and  Smyrna  is  surrounded  by  their  yellowish 
green  fields,  which  are  in  beautiful  contrast  with 
the  dark,  silvery,  bluish-green  of  the  olives.  As  we 
pass  along  the  trains  of  cars  coming  into  Smyrna, 
we  perceive  the  turbaned  Turks,  whose  labor  makes 
this  part  of  Asia  so  fruitful,  serenely  sitting  on  the 
Slack  sacks,  smoking  their  cigarettes  and  guarding 
their  property.  Could  the  youngster  at  home, 
whose  nether  lip  and  saccharine  tooth  liquefy  at  the 
thought  of  these  figs  of  the  Orient,  but  see  the  tur- 
baned, wild,  and  picturesque  Moslem  to  whom  he 
owes  this  luxury,  he  might  add  to  his  delectation  a 
study  in  art  and  ethnology.  Looking  around  from 
our  car,  we  perceive  the  ranges  of  mountains,  hid- 
ing, like  the  women  of  the  land,  their  beauties 
under  a  misty  veil.  Nearer  by  in  the  fields  are 
herds  of  black  goats  and  big-tailed  sheep.  The 
houses  are  made  of  mud  bricks,  and  are  low,  for  has 
not  Smyrna  once  trembled  under  the  tread  of  En- 
celadus  ?  It  is  easy  to  see  why  Smyrna  now  re- 
joices. It  is  not  sun  or  soil  ;  but  these  waters, 
which  now,  even  in  this  heated  term,  have  their 
small  stream  to  make  glad  the  earth. 

"  What,"  you  ask,  "  are  these  black  objects  by  the 
dozen,  in  groups  and  scattered  over  the  plains — 
almost  villages  of  them  ? "  These  are  the  dirty 
tents  of  the  Turcoman.  He  is  the  nomad  of  this 
vast  empire  of  unrest,  over  which,  from  the  Chinese" 
Wall  to  the  Mediterranean,  these  herders  wander, 
with  their  families  and  flocks.  We  see  them  upon 
the  railroad  side,  gazing  at  the  cars  as  if  dazed  at 
their  movement.  They  look  independent  and  happy. 
They  have  local  government  and  rules  of  their  own 


AN  EPHESIAN  DAY. 


213 


'and  are  contented.  The  suzerainty  of  the  Sultan 
troubles  them  little.  Their  Abrahamic  ways  are 
exceedingly  paternal  in  the  best  sense  of  home  rule. 

It  would  astonish  the  souls  of  some  of  my  old 
Ohio  constituents  to  see  how  much  sorghum  these 
old  plains  raise  ;  nor  am  I  altogether  sure  that  even 
the  Scioto  Valley  could  compare  with  this  ancient 
historic  dirt  in  making  maize.  Perhaps  there  is 
less  of  these  staples  here,  because  cotton,  madder, 
grapes,  pomegranates,  figs,  and  melons  pay  better; 
for  these  products  are  only  limited  by  the  labor 
of  the  people.  This  labor  is  performed  by  both 
sexes,  in  field  and  hut.  Stopping  at  a  water-station 
we  perceive,  lying  on  the  bare-swept  ground,  spread 
quite  thin,  plenty  of  grapes,  being  laid  out  to  dry 
in  the  sun,  for  the  black  raisin,  which  is  seedless, 
and  for  which  Smyrna  is  celebrated. 

The  grain-fields  have  been  harvested,  and  the 
fires  are  already  burning  up  the  rubbish,  weeds,  and 
shrubbery,  rolling  along  with  their  clouds  of  flame 
and  smoke  over  distant  and  near  plains.  Dusty 
clouds  also  appear  in  the  fields,  where  are  collected 
groups  of  horses  and  men,  threshing.  This  is 
lively  work,  for  twenty  horses  are  rushing  about  in 
a  circus  of  genuine  utility,  while  the  breeze  blows 
away  the  chaff  and  dust  of  the  grain. 

On  our  way  we  have  occasion  to  applaud  the  in- 
dustry of  these  Turks,  who  raise  grain  and  figs, 
grapes  and  madder,  olives  and  oranges.  We  no- 
tice them  and  their  women  in  the  ploughed  fields, 
breaking  the  hard-baked  clods  with  their  double- 
pronged  hoes.  Some  of  the  fields  (even  those 
where  the  black  tents  of  the  Turcomans  are)  have 
dried  branches  for  hedges,  as  if  the  real  property 
were  divided  and  segregated. 


2I4  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

There  is  much  to  be  seen  along  this  route,  if  one 
could  spend  a  week  or  so  in  the  survey.  What 
with  rock  cuttings  and  the  Cave  of  Homer  (for 
Smyrna  also  claimed  him),  the  convent  of  the 
prophet  Elias,  the  old  aqueduct,  the  beautiful  resort 
at  "Boujah,  where  mosques  and  gardens  vie  with 
Grseco-Roman  remains — "  Paradise  "  is  here  and 
near,  both  great  and  small ;  for  such  are  the  pre- 
tentious names  of  these  villas  of  delight  in  the 
heats  of  summer.  Was  it  not  here,  among  the 
cretaceous  formations,  where  Mark  Twain  found 
the  energetic  oyster  (I  mean  his  remains),  indicat- 
ing to  the  scientific  mind  that  at  some  era  that  de- 
licious bivalve  had  added  its  flavor  to  this  "  Para- 
dise" of  grapes,  melons,  figs,  and  silks?  He 
wondered  how  it  had  gotten  up  from  its  saline 
home  below  to  this  elevated  spot.  He  forgot  that 
even  the  oyster  may  seek  for  Paradise ;  and,  al- 
though his  sense  of  enjoymenjt  may  be  small,  yet 
he  has  a  source  of  joy  in  giving  pleasure  to  others. 

We  pass  into  plains,  and  amidst  mountains,  and 
through  villages,  where  we  are  greeted  by  sights  of 
camels,  old  and  young ;  and  by  the  'old  and  young 
who,  the  world  over,  come  out  to  see  the  movements 
of  the  outside  world.  There  is  occasionally  seen 
a  shepherd  with  his  reed  flute  and  pastoral  crook. 
Strange  people  are  seen,  especially  at  Tourbali, 
thirty  miles  out — men  of  high  turbans,  colored  and 
twisted  like  the  pillars  and  domes  of  St.  Basil's 
Church,  in  the  Kremlin,  at  Moscow.  Granite  peaks 
appear,  and  evidences  of  winter  floods  over  plains 
and  in  valleys ;  and  inundations  which  destroyed 
bridges  and  track,  but  left  fructified  fields. 

What  a  view  one  might  have  from  that  moun- 
tain on  our  left.  Besides,  it  bears  evidence  of  once 


AN  EPHESIAN  DAY.  2I5 

being  a  stronghold.  It  is  capped  by  a  castle,  which 
is  so  high  that  it  seems  very  small.  It  is  "Goats' 
Castle."  It  has  its  story.  It  was  the  defense  of 
the  tribes  hereabout  against  the  Ottoman  Sultans. 
A  shrewd  native  captain  frightened  its  occupants 
away  by  putting  lamps  on  goats  and  sending  them 
up  the  high  steep — a  mighty  host,  with  which  it 
was  vain  to  contend  ! 

We  are  getting  close  to  Ephesus.  The  path 
narrows.  This  is  one  of  the  gateways  of  history, 
as  are  all  narrow  mountain  gaps.  Alexander  the 
Great  (where  did  he  not  go  on  his  conquering  raids 
in  the  East  ?)  here  followed  the  paths  of  many  for- 
mer heroes.  Here,  too,  are  the  ruins  of  cities  made 
out  of  the  ruined  marbles  of  Ephesus.  Some  fool- 
ish people  also  locate,  at  a  niche  hereabouts,  a  mi- 
raculous dash  of  St.  Paul's  sword  into  the  mountain 
side.  It  is  said  that,  when  he  resided  at  Ephesus, 
he  came  out  here  to  try  its  temper,  and  made  this 
cave  at  a  stroke.  If  this  cave  were  alone  and  pecu- 
liar, we  might  give  to  it  some  little  story  of  some 
prophet,  saint,  or  king  ;  but,  the  mountain  being 
of  limestone,  the  cave  does  not  call  for  any  super- 
natural exertion. 

"  The  next  station  is  yours  !  "  says  the  conduc- 
tor, to  our  inquiry.  Our  heads  are  thrust  -out  of 
the  car,  to  get  a  first  view  of  the  famous  locality ; 
for  our  Ephesus  is  not  the  station  -of  that  name, 
but  it  is  near  by,  and,  as  we  near  Ayaslook  river, 
there  leaps  into  our  eager  eye  a  splendid  mount- 
ain, decorated  by  an  immense  Saracenic  castle. 
This,  under  other  circumstances,  and  if  it  were  safe 
from  brigands,  would  make  an  attraction  for  excur- 
sion of  itself;  but  this  is  only  the  Moslem  vestibule 
to  the  old  Grseco-Roman-Christian  temple  of  the 


2Ig  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

first  century.  The  cunning  hands  of  nameless 
builders  have  sanctified  this  soil  with  relics.  The 
very  art  which  graced  and  lifted  these  once  grand 
and  now  despoiled  structures,  mingles  with  the  mon- 
uments they  reared.  A  desert  world  surrounds 
us.  Only  one  symbol  of  the  new  order  is  here  ! 
It  is  the  locomotive.  Very  strange  it  seems  amidst 
smitten  temples  and  cities.  The  goblin  of  steam 
seems  but  "  a  dream  half  told,"  working  its  way 
into  a  land  which  Herodotus  eulogized  for  its  sa- 
lubrity, toward  a  buried  city,  whose  magnificence 
was  the  glory  of  the  ancient  world. 

At  length  we  reach  the  depot.  A  few  people,  in 
Eastern  clothes,  are  seen  in  this  feverish  place. 
There  is  also  a  tavern.  There  is  said  to  be  near  by,  a 
Christian  village,  made  up  of  descendants  of  the 
Greek  Christians ;  but  we  saw  but  one  person  who 
looked  like  a  Christian.  He  was  a  fine-looking, 
dark-eyed  man  (agent  of  the  road),  a  Greek,  who 
tendered  us  his  services  until  he  saw  Ibrahim 
emerge  from  a  "second-class"  car,  with  his  provis- 
ions. The  day  is  hot.  The  camels  are  lying  about 
at  rest.  It  is  high  noon.  We  prepare  for  the  trip. 
We  look  around  and  above  for  auspicious  omens, 
as  there  is  no  certainty  of  our  ever  coming  back 
from  Ephesus,  unless  bought  with  a  price.  Nat- 
urally the  flight  of  birds  in  the  East  is  remem- 
bered ;  and  there,  sure  enough,  swinging  in  splendid 
gyrations  about  the  Saracenic  battlements  above, 
are  two  eagles.  Evidently  they  are  typical  of  our 
native  land,  not  to  mention  ourselves.  How  splen- 
didly, as  they  circle,  they  seem  to  rest  on  the 
easy  bosom  of  the  air,  a  picture  of  lofty  tranquillity 
above  the  ills,  ruins,  and  breezes  below.  They 
give  courage,  especially  as  some  of  their  flights 


AN  EPHESIAN  DA  Y. 


217 


seem  as  cheerful  as  those  of  swallows  before  a 
shower.  The  worst  may  happen  ;  but  what  is  the 
worst  ?  Heaven  is  just  as  near  to  us  from  the  old 
prison  of  St.  Paul,  on  yonder  crag,  as  in  the  New 
World,  about  which  neither  his  great  teacher  Ga- 
maliel nor  himself  ever  dreamed.  Boldly  we  mount 
our  horses,  Ibrahim  and  myself,  and  to  my  wife  is 
assigned  a  lively  mule.  The  saddles  are  of  a  lofty 
wooden  kind.  Heavy  rope  halters  burden  the 
necks  of  the  animals,  who  find  them  less  cumber- 
some than  the  heat. 

We  pass  under  the  arches  of  the  ancient  aque- 
duct. It  is  in  good  preservation  and  not  far  from 
the  railroad  depot.  Its  picture  is  presented.  With- 
out wasting  a  glance  at  the  ruined  mosques  and 
minarets,  which  have  for  us  here,  and  now,  no  allure- 
ment, it  would  be  well  to  give, -in  a  few  sentences, 
something  of  that  salience  which  makes  Ephesus 
in  its  habiliments  of  decay  leap  out  of  history  as 
one  of  the  most  interesting-  ruins  of  the  world. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

EPHESUS— HER  DIVINITIES  AND  HER  DIVINITY. 

The  Empress  of  Ionia,  renowned  Ephesus,  famous  for  war  and 
learning. — GREEK  ANTHOLOGY,  iv.,  20. 

WE  reach  the  suburbs  of  old  Ephesus,  and  only 
halt  to  take  a  few  breaths  of  inspiration. 
The  reader  of  chapters  xviii.,  xix.,  and  xx.  of  the 
Acts  of  the  Apostles  desires  no  introduction  to  this 
favorite  city  of  St.  Paul.  As  an  apostolic  and 
Christian  home  it  is  better  known  than  as  a  great 
capital  and  the  site  of  the  great  pagan  shrine. 

Ephesus,  in  space,  is  or  was  situated  on  the  Gulf 
of  Scala  Nova,  and  also  south  of  the  Caystrus 
River.  It  is  now  in,  near,  or  over  a  very  hot  place. 
The  caloric  is  mostly  from  below.  A  grand  labora- 
tory has  been  at  work  from  the  earliest  times  among 
these  coasts  of  Greece.  The  recent  evidences  of 
its  labors  we  saw,  the  other  day,  at  Chios,  and  the 
cumulative,  or,  rather,  tumulative,  evidences  of 
which  are  found  from  Smyrna  to  Constantinople, 
and  from  Athens  to  Adalia.  Ephesus  would  not 
be  quite  such  a  pulverization  but  for  the  volcanic 
fires.  Perhaps  but  for  them  the  sea  would  still  be 
laving  its  old  walls  and  cheering  its  gloom.  From 
the  top  of  Mount  Coressus,  which  was  once  a  part 
of  the  city,  could  be  seen  the  island  of  Chios  and 
the  promontory  of  Karaboumon,  on  the  northwest  ; 
and  on  the  south-west,  set  in  the  blue  ^Egean,  the 

218 


EPHESUS—HER  DIVINITIES  AND   PIER  DIVINITY.     2Ip 

isle  of  Samos,  and  perhaps  a  dozen  others,  includ- 
ing Patmos  and  Scio.  I  doubt  not  that  from  the 
top  seats  of  the  great  theatre,  into  which,  with  one 
accord,  the  people  rushed,  with  Paul's  companions 
in  custody,  the  galleys  of  the  Roman  and  Greek 
emperors  could  be  seen  going  from  or  entering  the 
bay  to  Ephesus. 

Ephesus,  in  time,  may  have  had  more  vicissi- 
tudes than  she  has  had  in  space  ;  but  she  took  up 
a  good  deal  of  space  once.  From  the  time  of 
Alexander  the  Great  to  the  age  of  Cicero  and 
Caesar,  its  greatness  rose  and  culminated.  There 
is  no  way  of  ascertaining  its  population.  It  had  no 
census  bureau,  whose  records  have  been  found ; 
but,  judging  even  by  its  vaults,  where  the  super- 
structures are  no  more  ;  by  the  size  of  the  gymna- 
sium and  theatre  ;  by  the  magnitude  of  its  temples 
and  their  magnificence  ;  and  by  its  agora,  tombs, 
mint,  aqueducts,  and  their  separate  and  joint 
dimensions  and  magnificence,  the  old  city  must  be 
numbered  by  millions.  There  is  no  feeble,  nebulous 
falsehoods  about  this  grand  old  place.  It  is  as 
much  of  a  verity  as  Paris,  London,  Moscow,  or 
New  York.  Through  its  streets  surged  a  restless, 
intellectual,  questioning,  wonderful  people ;  reach- 
ing out  with  their  trident  and  worshiping  no  god- 
dess more  ardently  than  the  fruitful  divinity.  It 
was  next  to  Athens  as  a  capital ;  for  it  was  the  me- 
tropolis of  the  Ionian  Confederacy.  It  was  next 
to  Jerusalem  as  a  school  of  theology,  and  to  no 
other  city  was  it  second  as  a  school  of  art.  The 
city,  as  it  was  constructed  by  the  highest  refinement 
in  its  pristine  beauty,  is  here  presented  to  the  reader, 
in  the  engraving ;  and  as  a  contrast,  a  photograph 
of  its  condition  as  we  see  it  to-day. 


220 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


About  its  rocks,  groves,  shores,  and  caves  the 
genii  of  Grecian  myth  played,  as  if  festive,  racy, 
and  congenial  with  the  soil.  In  fact,  Apollo  and 
Diana  were  born  here.  The  silver  tongue  and  sil- 
ver bow — eloquence  and  adventure  !  Latona  here 
had  her  seat  of  refuge,  and,  with  Diana,  from  whose 
temples  the  fanciful  icicles  hung,  guarded  the 
sanctity  of  marriage.  So  that  population,  even  by 
strictest  economic  tabulation  and  truth,  must  have 
.increased.  Metamorphoses — puerile  but  favorite 
kaleidoscopes,  which  brought  out  of  the  darkness 
of  those  early  ages  the  richest  hues  of  fancy,  as 
aniline  colors  are  transmuted  out  of  coal-tar — here 
had  more  than  Protean  changes.  While  Pan,  the 
symbol  of  Nature,  did  not  disdain  to  lurk  in  leafy 
coverts  upon  hills  and  mounts,  Bacchus  did  not 
venture  very  boldly  where  Diana  was  mistress,  nor 
did  Venus  have  here  as  much  honor  as  Ceres  and 
Jupiter  Pluvius.  The  Amazons  here  found  a  pleas- 
ant asylum  after  a  fight  for  their  female  rights  ; 
and  in  all  that  made  up  pagan  rites,  myths,  cere- 
monies, and  grandeur,  we  have  the  New  Testament 
for  testimony,  that  no  small  gain  accrued  by  making 
silver  images  of  the  great  goddess  whose  image  fell 
from  Jupiter,  and  whose  worship  here  was  "  simply 
magnificent." 

The  worship  in  the  Temple  of  Diana  was  con- 
ducted with  great  mystery  and  awe.  Her  great  statue 
was  clothed  with  symbols.  There  were  signs  of 
the  zodiac,  a  necklace  of  acorns,  a  mural  crown,  and 
other  emblems  of  her  presiding  and  protecting 
power.  The  "properties"  of  the  temple  were  as 
rich  as  the  rites  were  imposing. 

I  present  an  etching  of  this  Diana  of  the  Ephe- 
sians.  It  is  taken  from  Falconer's  "Ephesus"  of 


EPHESUS—HER  DIVINITIES  AND   HER  DIVINITY.    22r 

1862,  a  volume  of  rare  learning  and  research.  It 
touches,  with  finest  hand,  all  that  classic  history 
gives  as  to  the  origin  and  rites  of  this  wonderful  god- 
dess, "  whom  all  Asia  and  the  world  worshipeth." 
The  cold  and  chaste  huntress,  who  "chains  in  vestal 
ice  the  current  in  young  veins,"  is  not  the  Diana 
of  this  worship.  The  Bubastis  of  the  Egyptians 
rather  is  the  Diana  of  Ephesus ;  and  her  reputation 
is  not  up  to  the  standard  of  the  chaste  huntress  of 
the  Grecian  myth. 

When  the  Temple  of  Diana  fell  in  the  third  cen- 
tury, the  spirit  of  St.  Paul  arose.  "  His  word  is 
more  than  the  miraculous  harp ; "  and  it  is  still 
sounding  down  the  centuries.  Ephesus  is  noted 
not  only  for  her  great  temple,  but  for  her  pa^a- 
mount  religious  connections.  These  were  Christian. 
But  like  her  arches  and  columns,  they  are  now  hid 
beneath  the  lush  overgrowth  of  bramble  and  weed. 
The  old  haunts  are  places  of  resort  for  the  owl  and 
the  lizard.  The  travels  and  companions  of  St.  Paul, 
recorded  in  the  "Acts,"  the  conversion  of  Apollos  by 
Aquila  and  Priscilla,  the  belief  that  John  the  Bap- 
tist here  exercised  his  peculiar  function,  the  schools 
of  magic  overthrown  by  apostolic  influences,  the 
work  of  Timothy  and  Tychicus,  the  prominence 
which  St.  John  the  Evangelist  gives  to  Ephesus  as 
the  first  of  the  Seven  Churches,  and  the  churches 
and  councils  of  the  early  Christians  gave  to  Ephe- 
sus this  capital  predominance. 

This  is  a  summary  of  the  interests  that  cling  about 
Ephesus,  the  last  and  not  least  of  which  are  these 
Christian  associations  and  the  writings  of  the  Apos- 
tle to  his  Ephesian  friends.  The  elegant  and  ear- 
nest epistle  to  these  men  show  how  his  heart  yearned 
after  those  for  and  with  whom  he  had  suffered. 


222  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

What,  then,  remains  of  this  grand  scene  of  other 
days  and  sacred  lore  ?  That  we  proceed  to  deter- 
mine, and,  being  led  by  Ibrahim  and  the  horseman 
who  attended  my  wife's  mule,  we  followed  the  path. 
Ibrahim  has  reserved  the  climax — the  temple— 
for  the  end ;  and  with  proper  taste.  That  cli- 
max we  looked  for  at  every  turn  ;  but  the  temple 
was  not  above  ground.  We  thread  our  pathway, 
Indian  file,  for  a  mile  or  more  over  the  dried  bed  of 
the  creek  known  as  Selenus,  having  started  from 
the  ruined  aqueduct ;  then  over  rubbish,  where  old 
tombs,  partially  opened  and  heavy  with  marble 
tops,  are  apparent,  down  the  sacred  road  to  the 
gymnasium.  This  place  is  in  area,  1,000  by  700 
feet,  and,  as  the  surveys  show,  lies  between  the 
agorae,  or  market-places,  and  the  port,  since  filled 
up.  The  great  agora  is  nearer  the  port  and  next 
to  the  theatre.  This  agora  was  the  assemblage- 
place  for  the  people.  Corinthian  columns,  of  which 
fragments  lie  about  in  great  disorder,  here  formed 
a  superb  colonnade,  while  statues  of  the  great 
Greeks  and  benefactors  of  Ephesus  once  lined  the 
way.  It  is  said  that  Antony  here  held  a  court  of 
justice,  and  rushed  out  of  it  to  pay  court  to  Cle- 
opatra, who  was  on  a  visit  and  happened  to  pass 
that  way  in  her  litter.  We  did  not  ascend  Mount 
Coressus.  We  saw  it  plainly  enough,  and  its 
great  beauty,  when  clothed  in  verdure  and  covered 
with  temples,  was  only  equaled  by  its  rival  mount- 
ain, Mount  Prion.  Between  them  lietheodeon  and 
theatre.  A  stream  once  played  between  these 
rocky  acclivities,  and  the  old  walls  ran  over  them. 

As  we  trudged  on  and  stumbled  over  the  rough 
debris  and  amidst  the  high  grass  and  weeds,  hold- 
ing our  animals  and  our  umbrellas,  I  could  not, 


DIANA    EPHESIA    (iN   THE    MUSEUM    AT   NAPLES). 


EPHESUS—HER  DIVINITIES  AND  HER  DIVINITY.  223 

being  behind,  help  noticing  the  imromantic  and 
irreverent  performance  of  my  wife's  mule.  He  was 
aware  of  the  inutilities  of  his  meagre  tail  in  fly- 
time  ;  and,  like  his  American  cousin,  he  used  his 
heels  with  good  effect — sometimes  all  four  in  the 
air  at  a  time,  and  all  directed  at  one  fly.  This 
caused  us  both  much  amusement,  though  it  made 
the  position  on  his  back  decidedly  irksome,  if  not 
dangerous.  My  wife  called  a  halt  near  the  walls ; 
and,  remembering  her  experience  in  the  Yosemite, 
arranged  herself  as  an  equestrienne  a  la  squaw. 
This  being  satisfactory,  and  our  minds  fixed  on  the 
theatre  (Acts  xix.  29),  made  memorable  by  the 
riotous  outcry  against  Paul,  we  were  proceeding 
down  the  rugged  and  tangled  path,  when  a  small 
caravan  of  nine  camels  and  three  baby  camels  filled 
the  archway.  They  were  driven  by  two  Arabs  and 
loaded  with  straw ;  so  that,  if  they  had  been  posed 
for  a  picture  in  modern  Ephesus,  with  the  mule  for 
local  color  and  acrobatic  vivacity,  it  could  not  have 
been  better  arranged. 

This  theatre  was  once,  and  is  yet,  immense.  It 
held  sixty  thousand  people.  It  is  a  great  mass,  but 
in  ruin;  not  complete  ruin,  but  complete  with  the  aid 
of  a  very  little  fanciful  architecture.  The  old  semi- 
circle is  there.  Its  arena  is  filled  with  strata  on  strata 
of  accumulated  dust,  pulverized  by  time  and  shaken 
down  by  earthquakes.  The  grass  and  shrubs  wave 
on  its  walls  and  over  its  seats.  Some  one  has  cut 
a  small  crop  of  tobacco  near,  which  is  hung  up  to 
dry.  The  old  arches,  without  the  superstructure, 
are  there.  The  arches  are  of  brick,  and  from  be- 
neath the  weeds  and  broken  stone  peep  forth  deli- 
cate traceries  in  marble  for  architrave  and  pillar. 
We  grow  excited,  having  caught,  after  a  couple  of 


224 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


thousand  years,  the  infection  from  the  silversmith 
and  his  craftsmen.  The  perspiration  rolls  off  from 
our  animals,  as  well  as  from  ourselves ;  but  a  cool 
breeze  stirs  the  high  weeds,  and  the  shrubbery  over 
the  walls  rustles.  There  is  only  one  sound  of  sin- 
gular sweetness  heard.  It  is  from  a  winged  em- 
erald, a  "green  canary,"  as  Ibrahim  called  it;  but 
really  the  honey-bird  of  Asia  Minor.  It  flew  forth 
from  the  theatre  and  sang  its  little  opera,  in  strange 
contrast  with  the  roar  which  once  shook  these  walls 
for  the  "space  of  two  hours,"  when  Demetrius  ap- 
pealed against  Paul ;  or  with  the  growls  of  wild 
beasts  which  dashed  forth  from  the  dark  vaults 
against  the  gladiators.  Then  we  dismounted,  if  only 
to  applaud  the  weird  and  winsome  songstress  of 
this  historic  theatre.  No  Patti,  with  her  kissing 
lyrics ;  no  Kellogg,  with  her  sad,  sweet  warble,  ever 
gave  fresher  charm.  If  upon  the  oldest  roots  the 
greenest  mosses  grow,  so  will  this  bird-voice  be 
ever  remembered  as  the  sweetest  of  memories 
which  cling  to  old  Ephesus.  Being  dismounted, 
and  pushing  aside  the  shrubbery  and  weeds,  we 
find  inscriptions  in  Greek,  and  marble  efflorescence 
in  perfect  beauty.  These  inscriptions,  written  for 
durance,  are  now  only  to  be  deciphered  by  some 
syllogisms  drawn  from  the  logic  of  that  astute  race 
whose  schools  were  here  in  full  play  when  Paul  dis- 
puted. We  did  not  stop  to  copy  or  endeavor  to 
translate.  It  was  no  time. 

We  take  a  good  view  of  the  plain  in  front  of  this 
theatre,  or  what  now  seems  a  plain,  where  once 
rich  argosies  rode.  Between  us  and  the  Caystrus 
river  there  seems  a  great  prairie  and  some  swamp 
land  ;  while  to  the  right  and  north  of  the  castle 
there  are  grounds  where  the  cotton-pod  seems  as 


EPHESUS—HER  DIVINITIES  AND  HER  DIVINITY.     22$ 

happy  among  melon-patches  as  if  it  were  "  way 
down  in  Alabama."  Leaving  the  theatre  reluc- 

o 

tantly  (for  we  ever  had  a  liking  for  the  theatre),  and 
stumbling  down  and  around  to  the  supposed  port 
and  custom-house,  which  no  politics  now  invade 
and  no  tariff  vexes,  we  gain  one  branch  of  the  Sacred 
Way.  There  were  two  Sacred  Ways.  One  is  within, 
and  the  other  is  out  and  from  the  walls  to  the  Tem- 
ple of  Diana.  This  first  way  is  now  our  objective 
point.  Passing  by  the  Cave  of  the  Seven  Sleepers 
in  the  quarry  (which  is  ultimate  nonsense,  unre- 
lieved by  any  wit  like  that  of  poor  Rip  Van  Winkle), 
and  under  the  rocky  cliffs  of  Mount  Prion,  whose 
imagined  loveliness,  when  arrayed  in  Ephesian  ho- 
liday, we  cannot  fail  to  picture,  we  ride  up  and  down 
amidst  scattered  fragments,  which  are  a  few  hand- 
fuls  of  dust  or  sand,  compared  with  the  measure- 
less majesty  of  the  proportionate  temples  of  which 
they  were  once  a  part.  Then  we  reach  the  sta- 
dium. This  was  splendid  in  its  day.  It  was  made 
prominentby  being  on  the  slope  of  Mount  Prion.  It 
gave  convenient  seats  on  its  upper  side,  and  these 
were  cut  in  the  rocks.  It  was  larger  than  the  the- 
atre,, and  was  arranged  for  seventy-six  thousand 
persons.  Underneath,  it  was  equally  immense. 
Everywhere  we  find  tombs.  Indeed,  the  whole  city 
is  a  vast  mausoleum.  Along  Mount  Coressus  they 
are  strewn  as  thickly  as  along  the  walled  heights 
of  Constantinople.  In  the  valley  they  were  in 
plenty.  On  the  sides  of  Prion  still  more,  and  along 
the  Sacred  Way  from  the  Magnesian  Gate  to  the 
great  temple  more  and  more.  From  the  stadium 
to  the  temple,  on  the  same  Sacred  Way,  there  are 
still  more  tombs.  Into  these  the  spades  and  hands 
of  curious  men  have  delved,  with  what  results  we 


226  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

do  not  always  hear,  as  the  Turkish  exchequer  is 
never  full  and  ever  greedy,  and  a  proclamation  of 
rich  findings,  as  Dr.  Schliemann  found,  leads  to 
the  lightening  of  the  purse  and  the  heaviness  of 
the  heart. 

It  is  impossible  by  vague  hints  to  portray  the 
greatness  of  this  buried  city  and  its  grounds.  It 
is  only  when  we  remember  the  gorgeousness  and 
numbers  of  these  heathen  temples  to  gods  and 
emperors,  and  to  founders  of  religion  and  empire, 
that  we  can  recall  in  some  fragmentary  way  the 
resplendence  of  this  ancient  metropolis,  whose 
mounds  are  so  magnificent.  Thirty-three  temples 
are  plainly  deciphered  by  ruins,  coins,  and  in- 
scriptions ;  but  among  them  all  in  mien  and  ges- 
ture, beauty,  purity,  and  elevation  is  that  of  "  Diana 
of  the  Ephesians."  It  was  on  and  below  the  plain 
between  Mount  Prion  and  the  hill  down  which  we 
started  from  the  aqueduct.  Its  site  was  long  lost 
beneath  the  soil  of  the  ages.  Falconer,  in  1862, 
said  that  no  fewer  than  seventeen  travelers  had 
mistaken  the  ruin  at  the  head  of  the  marsh  (the 
great  gymnasium),  for  the  vestiges  of  the  Temple 
of  Diana.  "  One  of  the  most  glorious  feats  of  ex- 
cavating at  Ephesus,"  he  continues,  "would  be 
the  discovery  of  the  temple.  It  is  an  unexplored 
mine  of  antiquity.  What  gems,  what  statues,  what 
bas-reliefs  might  be  discovered  in  a  city  where  a 
Parrhasius  and  an  Apelles  and  Zeuxis — where  a 
Praxiteles  and  a  Scopas,  besides  a  host  of  other 
artists  flourished ;  and  to  the  adornment  of  which 
we  know  that  even  a  Phidias  contributed." 

It  was  reserved  for  a  liberal  archaeologist,  Mr. 
Wood,  to  find  it.  He  succeeded.  He  began  with 
the  odeon  and  cleaned  out  the  theatre,  and,  find- 


EPHESUS— HER  DIVINITIES  AND  HER  DIVINITY. 


227 


ing  there  a  hint,  he  next  found  the  Magnesian 
Gate.  That  way  lay  the  temple.  For  three 
years  he  labored,  till  he  discovered  that  the  pro- 
cession from  the  temple  entered  the  city  by  one 
gate  and  went  out  by  another.  Eureka  /  The 
temple  is  at  the  junction  of  the  two  ways,  and 
then  he  began  to  dig  and  dig.  Ibrahim  says  that 
sometimes  two  thousand  men  were  at  work,  and 
paid  out  of  Mr.  Wood's  private  funds.  In  April, 
1869,  he  hit  the  happy  angle,  and  the  great  temple 
was  revealed  in  its  height,  breadth,  and  depth, 
though  with  its  columns  shattered  and  its  toiit  en- 
semble materially  destroyed  ;  but  still  a  form  to 
enshrine  a  spirit,  that  of  Diana  the  Great,  whose 
image  fell  from  Jupiter!  It  was  the  splendid 
shrine  of  her  whose  moonlight  beauty  gives  to 
earth  its  selectest  enchantment. 

Looking  over  this  ground,  and  recalling  the 
scenes  here  enacted  when  the  riot  occurred  which 
jeopardized  Paul's  liberty  of  person  and  speech, 
how  much  fresh  and  beauteous  meaning  bursts  into 
flower  from  each  one  of  the  chapters  of  the  Epistle 
to  the  Ephesians !  When  he  dignifies  and  ag- 
grandises the  power  wrought  in  Christ,  he  compares 
it  in  his  first  chapter  with  the  dominion  which  was 
found  in  Ephesus.  When  he  would  grace  the 
Christian  with  honors,  he  finds  similes  in  the  proud 
citizenship  at  Ephesus.  When  he  would  find  a  fit 
metaphor  for  the  system  of  Christ,  he  looked 
toward  the  heathen  temple,  "fitly  framed  together, 
growing  into  an  holy  temple."  He  had  but  to  look 
out  of  his  prison  upon  the  rock  to  frame  his  figure 
of  a  ship  tossed  to  and  fro,  and  carried  about  with 
every  wind  of  doctrine.  When  he  would  travel 
through  these  hot  vales  and  mountains,  and  longed 


22g  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

for  a  cool  retreat,  he  thought  of  the  sweetness  of 
the  evening  and  would  not  have  its  ethereal  mild- 
ness come  "upon  your  wrath."  Feeling  the  beauty 
even  of  the  ambiguous  service  for  Diana,  he  in- 
veighs against  that  uncleanness  that  defileth.  In 
fine,  standing  with  the  great  concourse  of  the  sta- 
dium, or  looking  upon  the  contests  of  the  gladia- 
tors in  the  theatre,  or  seeing  the  exercises  in  the 
gymnasium,  he  might  well  cry  out,  with  eloquent 
analogy  :  "  Put  on  the  whole  armor  of  God  ; " 
"Ye  wrestle  not  against  flesh  and  blood;"  "Stand, 
therefore,  having  your  loins  girt  about  with  the 
truth,  and  having  on  the  breastplate  of  righteous- 
ness, and  your  feet  shod  with  the  preparation  of 
the  gospel  of  peace."  His  allusion  to  the  shield, 
the  dart,  the  helmet,  and  the  sword  lifts  the  picture 
of  Ephesus,  even  in  its  ruins,  into  a  splendid  illus- 
tration of  this  gentlest  and  bravest  of  all  his 
epistles. 

Slowly  we  return  from  our  day  of  wonders,  full 
of  that  weird  mysticism  which  haunts  the  mind 
when  such  associations  clothe  the  senses  with  their 
dim  radiance.  Coming  under  the  walls  of  the  aque- 
duct, we  see  three  of  the  blackest  of  black  negresses, 
partly  clad  in  red  robes.  In  tipsy  glee  they  hail 
us  for  backsheesh.  We  fling  a.  para  or  so  in  honor 
of  the  sex  to  which  the  huntress  of  the  silver 
bow  belongs. 

"From  Abyssinia?"  I  cry.      No  response. 

"  From  Egypt  ?  "     Dead  as  the  Sphinx. 

"From  Nubia?" 

"  Yah  !  yah  !  Nubia,  yah  !  yah  ! "  and  the  three 
Nubian  priestesses,  who  serve  Diana  afar  off  and 
yet  at  her  very  gates,  never  heard  of  the  beauteous 
Queen  of  Night,  and  know  little  of  her  peculiar  mo- 


EPHESUS—IIER  DIVINITIES  AND  HER  DIVINITY. 


229 


ralities.  Africa  is  watching  by  the  grave  of  Asia,  and 
America  is  endeavoring  to  penetrate  its  mysteries. 
One  can  only  find  expression  for  such  eccentric 
changes  of  time  in  the  quaint  imagery  of  Sir  Thomas 
Browne,  who  described  Egypt  as  "  the  land  of 
obliviousness,  which  doteth.  Her  ancient  civility 
is  gone,  and  her  glory  hath  vanished  as  a  phantas- 
ma.  Her  youthful  days  are  over,  and  her  face  hath 
become  wrinkled  and  tetric.  She  poreth  not  upon 
the  heavens.  Astronomy  is  dead  unto  her,  and 
Knowledge  maketh  other  cycles.  Canopus  is  afar 
off,  Memnon  resoundeth  not  to  the  sun,  and  Nilus 
heareth  strange  voices.  Her  monuments  are  but 
hieroglyphically  sempiternal.  Osiris  and  Anubis, 
her  averruncous  deities,  have  departed,  while  Orus 
yet  remains,  dimly  shadowing  the  principle  of  vicis- 
situde and  the  effluxion  of  things,  but  receiveth 
little  oblation." 

Yet  it  is  this  doting  old  Egypt,  this  phantasm  of 
the  wrinkled  face,  this  unresounding  Memnon, 
whose  monuments  are  speaking  so  feebly  to  the 
ear  of  this  century,  that  keeps  its  dead  watch, 
through  Nubian  harridans,  over  the  ancient  civility 
and  vanished  glory  of  Ephesus  ! 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

ON  THE  WAY  TO  DAMASCUS. 

We  heard  the  Tecbir,  so  these  Arabs  call 
Their  shout  of  onset,  when  'with  loud  acclaim 
They  challenged  Heaven,  as  if  demanding  conquest. 
The  battle  join  d,  and,  through  the  burb'rous  herd, 
Fight,  fight,  and  Paradise,  was  all  their  cry. 

— THE  SIEGE  OF  DAMASCUS. 

A  CITY  which  holds  the  ashes  of  Saladin  and 
Buckle,  and  is  the  home  of  Abd-el-Kader — 
which  had  the  glory  of  St.  Paul's  conversion  and 
the  honor  of  Mohammed's  most  oriental  compli- 
ment— is  not  to  be  seen^  in  a  day,  nor  dismissed  as 
a  mirage  of  the  desert.  If  it  had  not  once  been  the 
capital  of  the  Arab  world,  the  Paris  of  the  Orient, 
its  claim  as  the  elder  beauty  of  the  Abrahamic  exo- 
dus from  Mesopotamia  into  the  Holy  Land,  would 
give  added  sparkle  to  each  drop  of  its  rivers,  canals, 
and  fountains,  hallow  every  atom  of  its  dust,  and 
gild  every  object  upon  which  its  fierce  sun  shines. 
Every  rock  seems  familiar  with  the  forgotten 
past.  Upon  its  sides  is  written  the  history  of  de- 
parted armies — and  although  the  record  of  the  fire 
and  stone  are  obscure,  still  they  are  penciled  by 
the  Mighty  Hand.  I  have  seen  in  these  stony 
records,  pictures  of  Egyptian  and  Assyrian,  on 
the  rock,  with  the  names  of  Sennacherib  and 
Pharaoh.  Their  deeds  have  lasted  so  as  to  confirm 
Holy  Writ. 


230 


ON   THE   WAY    TO  DAMASCUS. 


231 


When  we  left  behind  the  blue  sea  and  the  prom- 
ontory of  Beirut  yesterday,  and  wound  our 
way  over  the  bare  hills  on  hills,  and  bleak  mount- 
ains on  mountains  which  led  us  hither  ;  and  when 
we  bade  farewell  to  the  heights  and  vales  of  that 
Lebanon  by  the  sea,  so  much  beloved,  and  the 
glory  of  its  cedars,  palms,  mulberries,  fig-trees,  and 
vineyards,  and  began  our  long  ride  among  the 
rocks,  mountains,  and  plains  of  the  Lebanon  beyond 
the  sea,  we  knew  that  there  was  a  generous  recom- 
pense in  store  for  our  travel.  If  our  road  was 
elevated  and  our  path  zigzag,  were  we  not  repaid 
by  the  shadows  and  splendors  of  the  Lebanon 
ranges  and  the  peerless  magnificence  of  Mount 
Hermon  ?  If  our  companions  were  of  an  alien 
race,  were  we  not  repaid  by  views  of  mountain 
vales  and  cones,  and  the  wide,  verdant  plain  at 
their  base,  not  to  speak  of  the  ever-recurring  vista 
of  that  Biblical  sea  which  met  our  gaze  through 
mountain  defiles,  and  which  ever  lifts  itself  up  as 
if  it  were  a  psalm  ? 

What  a  prospect  we  have  from  these  mountains 
of  Lebanon  !  What  memories  !  Yonder,  in  the 
south-west  is  or  was  Tyre,  and  there,  somewhat 
nearer,  was  Sidon  ;  and  to  the  north,  lined  by  a 
broad  belt  of  sky  and  sea,  which  seem  to  mingle  as 
one,  are  the  ancient  castles  of  Crusader  and  Pay- 
nim,  and  the  mountains  round  about,  which  seem 
self-withdrawn,  in  perpetual  grandeur  !  How  could 
we  bring  our  vision  down  to  the  details  of  the  jour- 
ney— the  immense  herds  of  cattle,  goats,  and  sheep, 
and  the  caravans  of  camels,  donkeys,  and  men— 
when  at  every  movement  we  must  turn  to  the  mar- 
riage of  sea  and  sky,  under  the  white  veil  of  the 
distant  clouds  ?  How  can  we  condescend  to  tell 


232 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


of  the  beautiful  kiosks,  the  Maronite  monasteries 
perched  on  mountain  summits,  the  picturesque  fig- 
gatherers  and  raisin-curers,  or  the  annoyances,  the 
cost,  and  delays,  when  from  the  glen  of  Hummana, 
with  its  bowering  orchards  and  its  vesture  of  vine- 
yards, to  the  sublime  gorge  of  the  Abana,  across  the 
tawny  plain  of  Sahra  (Sahara),  there  is  a  gallery  of 
pictures  whose  natural  features  are  illuminated  as 
well  by  the  light  from  sacred  truth  as  by  the  Orient 
sunbeams,  tempered  on  the  mountains  by  the 
most  genial  of  airs  ?  You  may  call  it  enthusiasm 
which  takes  the  pilgrim  hither  and  over  three  ranges 
of  the  two  Lebanons.  But  is  it  not  worth  a  striving 
to  see  the  summits  of  these  hallowed  hills  of  the 
Bible  ?  Are  these  bare  heights,  bursting  in  grand- 
eur, although  only  here  and  there  clothed  with  veg- 
etation— are  these  dark  gorges  between  lofty  peaks 
and  castellated  walls — are  these  Druse  principali- 
ties, all  red  with  Christian  blood,  these  streams  sil- 
very with  the  lymph  which  makes  the  fissures  and 
plains  fruitful  in  grape  and  fig — are  these  Syrian 
temples  of  Roman  and  Herodian  times,  these  wild 
retreats  and  verdurous  belts,  these  precipices  of 
tanned  earth  and  rock  and  terraces  of  blushing 
apricots  and  pomegranates — are  these  fountains  of 
sweet  waters  bursting  from  cliffs  of  limestone — all 
nothing,  that  we  should  regret  the  heats  and  dusts 
of  our  way  to  the  city  of  our  promise  and  hope  ? 

"  Promise  and  hope  ?  "  Yes.  When  a  boy,  I 
read  Lamartine's  "  Pilgrimage  to  the  Holy  Land." 
His  stately  poetic  prose  and  lordly  enthusiastic  per- 
sonality made  a  vivid  impression.  His  picture  of 
Syria  as  "  calcined  with  desolation  "  did  not  detract 
from  the  aureole  of  holy  light  which  he  threw  about 
these  very  mountains  of  Lebanon  ! 


ON   THE   WA  Y   TO  DAMASCUS.  233 

\ 

I  wonder  whether  Lamartine  saw  these  mount- 
ains in  the  spring,  when  they  are  said  to  be  green 
and  beautiful,  or  at  the  end  of  summer,  as  is  our 
case,  when  all  is  umber,  and  rock.  But  it  is  said 
that  even  when  the  terraces  are  tricked  out  in  their 
finery  of  vines,  olives,  and  mulberry,  still  the  mount- 
ains look  brown  from  below  as  you  are  ascending ; 
but  otherwise  when  descending,  when  the  terraced 
walls  are  not  observed.  However  that  may  be, 
we  have  now  something  of  that  contrast  wherein 
lieth  much  delight.  When  the  water  supply  here 
is  full,  then  the  spring  and  summer  are  generous  of 
their  graces  and  goodness.  But  it  is  not  true — 
though  poetically  pretty,  as  our  English  Minister, 
Lowell,  in  his  heyday  of  inspiration,  once  sung — 
that 

"  'Tis  heaven  alone  that  is  given  away, 
'Tis  only  God  may  be  had  for  the  asking; 
There  is  no  price  set  on  the  lavish  summer, 
And  June  may  be  had  by  the  poorest  comer." 

No  heavenly  beauty,  no  lavish  summer,  no  leafy 
June,  is  to  be  had  here  gratis.  There  is  a  price 
which  is  paid  in  hard  labor  for  all  that  the  Lebanon 
gives  to  its  stewards  and  toilers,  either  in  loveliness 
or  reward. 

Something  more  than  rhapsody  is  required  to 
tell  how  we  passed  the  day  on  the  road  to  Damascus. 

There  is  a  good  road,  well  macadamized.  It 
takes  fourteen  hours  in  the  French  diligence.  We 
started  at  the  early  hour  of  four.  Our  seat  was 
not  a  happy  one  at  first,  for  we  were  in  the  "  inte- 
rieur,"  and  with  us  two  Arab  women,  with  child, 
food,  and  baggage,  and  two  men.  When  daylight 
came  I  found  my  neighbor  was  a  very  black  man, 
who  insisted  on  sleeping  upon  my  fraternal  shoulder. 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

We  soon  rectified  our  position,  for  we  had  been 
cheated  by  the  agent,  who  put  us  in  the  wrong 
place.  Being  elevated  to  the  banquette,  we  had  a 
better  view  of  the  gorgeous  scenery,  and  more 
comfort. 

In  going  out  of  Beirut,  the  scenes  are  so 
thoroughly  Asiatic,  with  the  square  stone  houses 
and  terraced  mountains,  the  palm-trees  and  the 
cactus  hedges,  the  figs  and  the  vineyards,  the  cis- 
terns of  water  and  the  caravans  of  camels,  that  we 
felt,  more  than  at  Broussa,  that  we  were  within  the 
realms  of  the  Orient.  We  felt,  too,  that  we  were 
on  the  enchanted  borders  of  the  Holy  Land. 

Watching  and  waiting,  gazing  through  dust  and 
heat,  we  long  for  a  glance  at  the  city  of  our  hope 
and  promise ;  how  can  we  help  but  anticipate  ? 
This  emerald  setting  in  the  rough  cliffs,  between 
the  far-stretching  desert  and  the  limitless  sea,— 
when  shall  we  see  its  seven  rivers  ?  When  look 
upon  Abana  and  Pharpar,  "better  than  all  the 
waters  of  Israel?"  We  are  athirst  for  the  vision  ! 

Passing  walls  on  walls  of  rock  at  the  head  of  the 
great  valleys,  like  those  in  the  midst  of  our  back- 
bone range  in  Colorado,  but  decorated  with  vines 
in  terraced  culture  ;  passing  patient  camels,  horses, 
and  donkeys  in  endless  procession,  overladen,  as  it 
seems,  and  trudging  slowly  up  the  steeps  and  down 
the  windings ;  gazing  at  turbaned  Abrahamic  plough- 
men, with  their  antique  wooden  ploughs  and  laziest 
of  ox  teams,  driven  by  the  old  goad  ;  peering  into 
strange,  bronzed  Bedouin  faces  and  veiled  womanly 
eyes ;  and  watching  long  companies  of  sealed  me- 
tallic wagons,  guarded  by  horsemen,  fresh  and  alert, 
as  if  in  a  circus  ring,  we  at  length  reach  the  plain 
of  the  classic  river  Leontes,  now  known  as  the  Lit- 


ON   THE   WAY    TO  DAMASCUS. 


235 


any.  Here  are  proofs  of  moisture  in  green  fields 
and  fruitful  orchards  and  vineyards. 

Our  halting-place  is  Stora,  where  there  is  a  hotel 
kept  by  a  Greek,  Andrea,  which  we  find  quite  a 
comfort.  Out  of  the  coupe  of  the  diligence  leaps 
a  splendid-looking  man.  He  is  an  Arab,  and  all 
rush  to  greet  him.  A  company  of  soldiers,  Circas- 
sians and  Turks  in  uniform,  receive  him.  With 
quiet  and  elegant  manner  he  embraces  some  and 
salutes  others.  "  Who  is  he  ?  Can  it  be  Rustam 
Pasha,  the  Italian,  the  Pasha  of  the  Christians,  the 
ruler  of  the  Lebanon  ?  "  We  go  within  the  hostelry 
of  the  Greek,  and  begin  our  late  breakfast  at  noon. 
A  crowd  entered  with  the  Governor,  for  he  is  a 
Governor  or  sub-Governor  of  these  villages.  His 
name  is  Halil  Bey.  He  asks  of  his  attendants  the 
usual  cigarette.  I  present  my  compliments  and 
my  cigarette  case,  and  this  leads  to  courtesy,  and 
we  begin  to  talk.  Before  it  is  done  he  inquires 
gently  about  our  President — just  dead  !  We  invite 
him  to  America,  and  he  tenders  us  his  protection 
to  Baalbec.  This  was  well  and  pleasing ;  but  we 
do  not  require  protection  here.  It  was  well,  be- 
cause it  gave  us  what  is  needed  here,  a  little  pres- 
tige. It  helps  us  to  other  courtesy,  and  hurts  none. 
In  his  retinue  is  the  son  of  our  former  dragoman 
at  Beirut.  This  young  man  gives  us  a  card  to 
his  father  at  Damascus.  His  father  is  Ayoub  Tabet. 
He  is  just  from  America. 

We  are  now  in  the  midst  of  that  level,  some  ten 
miles  or  more  wide,  which  divides  the  two  ranges 
of  the  Lebanon,  whose  waters  are  shed  on  left  and 
right,  for  over  a  degree  of  latitude,  to  fructify  the 
plain,  and  which,  breaking  their  way  under  the  west- 
ern shadow  of  Mount  Hermon,  debouch  between 


2^6  FROM  POLE    7*O  PYRAMID. 

the  sites  of  Tyre  and  Sidon.  Upon  this  level  what 
populations  once  lived,  when  Heliopolis  had  its 
sun  worship,  or  Baalbec  had  its  millions  and  the 
coast  its  commerce  ;  and  when  the  land  was  not 
denuded  of  its  forests  or  cursed  with  bad  govern- 
ment ! 

We  break  the  monotony  of  the  way  by  talking 
to  the  conductor.  He  speaks  French.  He  is  a 
large  and  good-natured  Arab,  and  has  been  trained 
by  the  Jesuits  in  the  school  at  Beirut  ;  still,  he  is 
an  Arab.  I  inquire  of  him  as  to  the  effect  of  relig- 
ion here.  He  replies,  as  he  looks  out  upon  Mos- 
lems on  their  carpets  praying  :  "  Oh,  too  many 
religions — not  too  much  religion."  It  is  a  well- 
turned  phrase. 

I  ask  him  again  :  "  What  good  these  pilgrim- 
ages to  Mecca  do  ?  Every  village  has  its  man  on 
the  way  now." 

He  laughingly  shows  his  white  teeth,  and  with 
an  old  maxim  responds :  "  If  a  man  goes  to 
Mecca  once,  trust  him  :  twice,  don't :  and  three 
times,  move  out  of  his  neighborhood." 

We  leave  this  place  with  some  reluctance.  It  is 
a  beautiful  spot ;  but  it  is  not  Damascus.  Our 
jolly  Arab  neighbor  in  the  banquette  halloos  to 
the  sleepy  passengers,  "  Damask  ! "  at  every  relay  ; 
but  we  are  but  half  our  way  when  we  take  a  lunch 
and  a  fresh  start  at  Stora,  in  the  midway  plain. 
Goatherds  are  hailed  by  the  rowdy  Arab ;  old 
sheiks  are  saucily  chaffed  by  him  ;  a  small  boy 
standing  astride,  like  a  miniature  colossus,  of  our 
road  is  joked  by  him  ;  the  conductor  of  the  dili- 
gence is  even  twitted  by  him,  until  the  great 
shadow  of  our  conveyance  is  thrown  by  the  shades 
of  evening  down  the  mountain  sides,  and  we  are 


ON    THE   WAY   TO  DAMASCUS.  2<37 

almost  sure  that  Damascus  is  nigh.  We  have 
passed  the  pleasant  vale,  the  fountains,  and  the 
ruined  khans,  called  Meithelun.  Gray  hills  of 
rock,  with  vines,  which  are  the  only  relief  to  the 
eye  under  the  suns  of  summer,  usher  in  new  views 
of  villages  on  distant  slopes,  unromantic  and  flat, 
but  with  green  about  them  as  fringes  ;  and  then 
we  strike  the  desert. 

The  road  shines  like  a  vein  of  silver  across  the 
arid  plain.  At  its  termination  we  dash  with  unex- 
pectedness and  delight  into  a  defile  of  bewildering 
beauty.  Foliage  and  fountains,  and  streams  under 
sunshine,  walnuts  and  willows,  poplars  ever  so  tall 
and  elegant,  give  signs  that  water  is  here,  work- 
ing its  magic  and  by  its  silver  silences  and  mur- 
murous melodies  is  beginning  to  make  out  of  bleak- 
ness a  beatitude. 

Wherever  there  is  water  there  is  hope.  Job  tells 
us  that  even  if  a  tree  be  cut  down,  there  is  hope 
that  it  will  sprout  again,  and  that  the  tender  branch 
thereof  will  not  cease.  We  have  every  sign  here 
upon  this  road  that  the  root  has  waxed  old  in  the 
earth.  "Yet  through  the  scent  of  water  it  will 

<j 

bud,  and  bring  forth  boughs  like  a  plant." 

The  mountains  are  white  with  the  lime,  and  their 
contrast  with  the  green  of  the  descending  vales  is 
heightened  by  the  appearance  of  cultivated  villages. 
Our  conductor  begins  to  show  signs  of  reaching 
for  his  horn.  We  drive  faster  and  faster,  until, 
lo  !  at  a  glance,  as  if  the  "  scales  "  had  fallen  from 
our  parched  eyes,  the  road  to  Damascus  narrows 
into  a  canon,  and  becomes  illuminated  with  a  new 
glory.  Out  of  the  very  bleakness  of  this  desert, 
by  the  aid  of  irrigation  and  dams,  leap  the  live 
orchards  !  Out  of  the  river  Abana,  made  by  the 


238  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

snows  and  dews  of  the  Hermon,  but  as  if  from  sub- 
terranean lakes,  come  forth  thick  groves,  still  in 
strange  contrast  with  the  rugged  mountains.  Be- 
fore we  are  aware  of  it,  our  road  is  again  narrowed 
by  walls,  or  blocks,  made  of  dried  mud,  and  held 
together  by  branches.  These  walls  of  brown  clay, 
rolled  smooth  and  compacted  over,  these  branches 
(bricks  with  straw),  appear  more  frequently  ;  and 
then,  still  following  the  ravine  with  its  laughing 
water,  which  is  like  a  thread  of  silver  in  a  texture 
of  green,  we  find  ourselves  in  sight  of  the  Mosque 
of  Selim,  and  hailed  by  crowds  of  expectant  peo- 
ple. Gardens  appear  ;  willows  with  great  trunks 
lean  over  the  streams  which  they  have  scented. 
They  run  a  race  with  us.  Crowds  of  black 
goats  and  caravans  of  loaded  camels,  in  strange 
contrast  also  with  the  white  limestone  cliffs  and 
mountains;  and  then  more  houses  with  flat  roofs; 
and  baths  with  incoming  and  outgoing  people ; 
and  rushing,  roaring  falls,  and  pictured  houses ; 
and  then  men  in  fine  attire,  on  mules,  donkeys,  and 
horses,  all  draped  in  golden  saddle-cloths  ;  and  we 
are  under  an  avenue  so  warm  and  so  thick  with 
trees  that  the  hot  walls  give  us  their  spent  caloric, 
and  the  branches  of  the  trees  fly  saucily  into  the 
banquette  of  our  vehicle.  Horsemen  with  guns  in 
hand,  dash  by ;  and  the  conductor  cries  out,  "  Da- 
mascus ! "  But  he,  too,  anticipates.  Some  fields  of 
maize,  with  a  scarecrow ;  more  canals  and  caves  ; 
cool  depths  of  poplar  and  other  woods  ;  more  old 
roots  of  trees  by  the  water-side  ;  plane-trees, 
spreading  with  time  and  hollow  with  age  ;  and  the 
conductor  points  to  the  last  intervening  mountain. 
Impatiently  I  ask:  "Are  we  never  to  see  Da- 
mascus ?  Are  we  not  yet  nigh  ?  " 


ON   THE   WA  Y   TO  DAMASCUS. 


239 


He  responds  :  "Yonder!  One  more  mountain  !" 
We  look  up  to  it  with  gratitude.  It  is  our  beacon. 
Over  it  in  faint,  white  crescent,  emblematic  of  the 
Moslem,  is  the  new  moon.  At  last !  Damascus  is 
in  our  view.  Then  appear  the  six  minarets — two 
black  tipped — and  domes  innumerable  bursting  out 
of  green  environs.  It  is  a  splendid  vision,  for  it l 
furnishes  to  the  famished  eye  signs  of  Damascus — 
the  elder  !  Snap  !  Crack  !  Whisk  !  Tirrahlah  ! 
from  the  horn,  and,  amid  a  crowd  of  bystanders, 
open  fly  the  gates,  and  we  are  within  not  only  the 
city  of  Uz,  the  capital  of  Syria,  the  delight  of  the 
Orient,  but  within  the  precincts  of  the  grand  dili- 
gence establishment,  and  near  the  Hotel  Dimitri. 
We  find  the  goal  of  our  ambition. 

Preliminaries  for  return  and  a  trip  to  Baalbec 
being  settled,  we  are  met  by  a  courier,  and  escorted 
to  our  hotel.  As  we  enter  the  narrow  and  low 
gateway,  its  court  gives  us  an  interior  Damascene 
view,  which  has  all  the  local  color  which  trees  and 
fountains,  colored  walls  and  arabesques  of  grace 
could  give.  It  was  a  welcome  place. 

It  is  a  grand  old  city ;  and  we  took  it,  not  with- 
out some  chivalric  endeavor,  for  how  else  would 
one  take  the  city  which  holds  the  tomb  of  Saladin  ? 

Fourteen  hours  in  a  diligence,  over  a  wonderful 
road  !  The  heat  was  much,  and  the  dust  more  ; 
but  the  scenery  repaid  all,  and  the  finale  eclipsed 
the  scenery.  A  French  company  owns  the  con- 
veyances, and  made  the  road.  It  is  well  ordered. 
It  reminds  us  of  Alpine  passes.  A  toll  of  fourteen 
piastres  (sixty-four  cents,  or  three  francs)  on  every 
animal — sheep,  mule,  goat,  camel,  horse,  and  don- 
key— supports  the  road.  In  winter  it  is  much 
snowed,  and  the  mails  are  in  trouble  in  the  wild 


240  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

gulches.  Still,  the  road  is  now  well  protected. 
Brigands  no  longer  menace  in  the  defiles.  The 
country  of  the  Lebanon  has  had  troubles,  and  ever 
since  the  war  in  1860  it  has  been  in  unrest.  But 
it  has  had  a  Christian  Governor,  and  although 
Moslems  are  themselves  restless  under  this  arrange- 
ment, the  "  Great  Powers  "  have  kept  this  order  in 
spite  of  all  irksome  outside  pressure. 

At  our  dinner  at  the  hotel  in  the  evening  the 
father  of  our  Stora  friend,  Ayoub  Tabet,  appears. 
He  is  full  of  his  American  trip.  He  makes  us  at 
home  socially  ;  and  soon  after  we  retire  to  rest  and 
to  dream  of  running  waters,  pleasant  fountains,  ele- 
gant kiosks  and  arabesques,  flat-roofed  houses  set 
amid  verdant  bowers,  and  all  crowned  and  over- 
topped by  the  splendid  range  of  Mount  Hermon — 
the  first,  last,  and  best  vision  of  the  Lebanon. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

DAMASCUS— ITS  WONDERS  AND  GLORIES,  MASSACRES  AND 
MOSQUES  — ITS  TOMBS  AND  WALLS  —  ITS  APOSTOLIC 
MEMORIES,  AND  GRAVE  OF  BUCKLE. 

Between  the  foaming  jaw  s  of  the  white  torrent, 
The  skillful  artist  draws  a  sudden  mound; 
By  level  long  he  subdivides  their  strength, 
Stealing  the  waters  from  their  rocky  bed, 
First  to  diminish  what  he  means  to  conquer; 
Then  for  the  residue  he  forms  a  road, 
Easy  to  keep,  and  painful  to  desert, 
And  guiding  to  the  end  the  planner  aim'd  at. 

— THE  ENGINEER. 

I  WRITE  by  a  couple  of  candles  at  midnight,  in 
a  land  where  there  is  no  gas  or  midnight  sun. 
By  a  certain  motherly  and  necessitous  invention 
these  minor  "lights  of  Asia"  stand  within  the 
blushing  bosom  of  two  pomegranates,  so  that  you 
may  see  why  these  letters  from  Damascus  lack  the 
electric  light  of  other  lands,  and  are  rhetorically 
over-redolent  of  the  aroma  of  the  East.  Besides, 
is  it  not  worth  while  to  sacrifice  some  convenience 
to  unburden  one's  self?  My  memory  of  this  city 
is  already  like  an  overladen  camel.  It  refuses  to 
"get  up,"  or,  when  up,  shows  its  critical  teeth  and 
spiteful  lip.  This  is  not  my  theory  of  pleasure  or 
observation  in  travel ;  for,  while  I  do  not  like  to  ad- 
mire anything  not  intrinsically  admirable,  I  do  love 
to  praise  all  that  is  praiseworthy.  Hence,  in  despite 
of  much  in  Damascene  morals  and  annals  alien  to 
ii  241 


242 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


the  Jewish  and  Christian  mind,  I  may  discreetly 
praise  what  is  just,  kindly,  and  honorable  to  them 
as  a  leading  city  in  the  advancement  of  our  kind. 

The  bazaars  and  Bedouins,  mosques  and  muftis, 
gardens  and  guitars,  canals  and  courtesies,  looms 
for  silk  and  carpet,  and  forges  for  swords  and  cut- 
lery, houses  decorated  by  rare  arabesques,  and 
horses  caparisoned  with  equipments  worthy  of  Sal- 
adin — these  deserve  and  have  special  places  in  its 
museum  of  memory.  They  displace  much  of  the 
hateful  and  bigoted  in  the  history  of  this  city.  Nor 
is  it  to  be  forgotten  that,  to  make  this  terrestrial 
paradise,  the  same  engineering  skill  which  gave  to 
Andalusia  its  irrigation  and  fruitful  glory  had  its 
source  in  the  race  which  invented  arithmetic,  alge- 
bra, and  astronomy,  the  three  big  A's  of  the  Moor- 
ish alphabet. 

I  remember  well,  when  in  1851  I  contemplated 
a  trip  hither,  that  I  was  warned  that  it  was  the  city 
of  the  East,  of  all  others,  where  fanaticism  was  so 
rampant  that  Christians  were  unsafe.  No  good 
conduct  on  their  part,  and  no  "  safe  conduct "  on 
the  part  of  the  Government  would  then  have  pro- 
tected us.  Nine  years  after,  intolerance  broke 
out  in  zealous,  bloody  massacres.  No  returns 
have  shown  the  number  of  Christians  who  fell. 
There  were  two  thousand  five  hundred  ascertained 
male  adults  alone  murdered  in  this  city.  Some 
were  refugees  from  the  villages,  and  others  stran- 
gers from  Mesopotamia,  Egypt,  and  Armenia.  The 
Christian  houses  and  bazaars  were  burned  and 
pillaged.  Worse  than  murder  was  the  fate  of 
many  women.  A  cry  of  horror  and  of  revenge 
was  heard  through  Christendom,  and  steps  were 
taken  by  the  powers  to  punish  the  guilty  and  pro- 


DAMASCUS, 


243 


vide  security  for  the  future.  So  far  as  it  is  possi- 
ble for  me  to  observe,  there  is  not  much  of  this 
ignorance  and  intolerance  left ;  although  the 
Christians,  who  number  in  the  city  now  some 
twenty-five  thousand,  out  of  the  two  hundred 
thousand  population,  say  that  the  malice  of  the 
old  enemy  is  only  hidden,  or,  as  the  psalm  hath 
it,  "  he  sitteth  in  the  lurking-places  of  the  villages, 
and  lieth  in  wait  secretly  as  a  lion  in  his  den." 

So  far  as  my  acquaintance  goes,  I  think  there 
may  be  some  little  to  be  said  in  extenuation  of  the 
crimes  of  1860.  I  would  not  indict  the  whole  race 
or  a  religion  for  the  excesses  of  a  part.  The  Arabs 
are  a  generous  race,  if  unprovoked,  and  if  decently 
led.  Hospitable  and  frank,  good-tempered  and 
genial,  we  have  found  them,  and  in  this  respect 
they  differ  from  their  cousins  the  Tartar  Turks. 

Besides,  was  not  Damascus  the  seat  of  the  Cal- 
iphate, which  it  divided  at  one  era  with  Bagdad  and 
Cordova  ?  And  may  I  not  commend  to  the  stu- 
dent of  toleration  many  of  their  precepts  and 
policies,  which  have  in  them  the  essential  toleration 
of  our  Constitution  ? 

We  visit  the  bazaars.  They  are  like  all  oriental 
bazaars.  The  shops  are  very  small.  Their  cross- 
legged  proprietors  are  eager  to  sell.  Other  mer- 
chants go  around  the  narrow  thoroughfares,  tender- 
ing you  bargains.  Sometimes  precious  stones  are 
offered  you.  Pearls,  turquoise,  and  diamond  leap 
out  of  the  folds  from  the  bosom  of  a  greasy  old 
Turk,  and  are  offered  you.  Now  and  then  some 
veiled  female,  once  a  favorite  of  the  harem,  will 
tender  the  jewels  she  received  in  the  morning  of 
her  life  and  beauty.  You  are  sometimes  invited  to 
a  seat  and  to  coffee  on  the  platform  ;  and  the  goods 


244  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

are  displayed  to  tickle  your  fancy.  You  are  about 
to  buy,  when  prayers  are  called  from  the  minaret 
near;  the  merchant  stops.  He  prays.  After  prayer 
he  begins  again  to  chatter  and  cheat. 

What  happens  in  these  bazaars  when  two  cara- 
vans of  mules  or  donkeys,  with  panniers  loaded 
five  times  the  size  of  the  animal,  meet  each  other  ? 
What  if  a  string  of  camels  strive  to  "lumber" 
through ;  and  what  if  our  carriage,  which  can  only 
go  one  way,  and  cannot  be  turned  round,  be  caught 
in  this  Eastern  imbroglio  ?  This  happened  to  us 
once  or  twice ;  and  a  mad  camel, — and  when  mad 
they  are  very,  very  bad  and  mad, — dashed  by  us. 
His  ropes  caught  our  carriage,  and  but  for  the 
quickness  of  our  dragoman  we  should  have  been 
upturned,  or  inturned  into  a  shop.  Fortunately 
there  was  but  one  step  from  the  carnage  to  a  silk 
stall  ;  and  we  were  ready  for  the  step.  Nobody 
here  will  get  out  of  the  way,  if  it  can  be  helped. 
Not  even  a  dog  gets  out  of  the  way,  though  in- 
stant death  stares  him  in  the  face.  Like  the  peo- 
ple, he  will  gaze  sleepily  and  half  curiously  at  you  ; 
and,  like  them,  he  will  cry  on  the  least  suspicion  of 
trouble.  You  pick  up  a  stone  to  hurl  at  a  dog, 
and  he  howls  till  you  throw  it,  or  hit  him,  and  then 
he  goes  off  quietly.  Although  our  cavass  was  a 
Moslem,  and  sat  with  the  driver,  sworded  as  a 
knight  and  pistoled  like  a  Boabdil,  and  all  recog- 
nized him  as  authority  with  the  right  of  way,  yet 
the  dreamy  turbaned  folks  about  in  the  bazaars, 
cross-legged  or  on  low  stools,  with  their  truck  to 
sell  or  coffee  to  drink,  never  moved.  We  crashed 
in  one  of  the  four  legs  of  a  stool,  and  grazed  the 
man  who  sat  on  it,  but  he  smoked  away  as  if  noth- 
ing had  happened.  It  was  "  Kismet !" 


DAMASCUS. 


245 


Our  experience  in  the  "  interieur "  of  the  dili- 
gence over  the  Lebanon  has  given  me  an  insight 
into  the  inner  life  of  the  Arab,  which  confirms  the 
kindly  regard  I  formed  when  we  sailed  with  crowds 
of  them  for  eight  days  upon  the  coasts  of  Asia 
Minor  and  Syria. 

Before  a  stranger  can  capture  the  interesting 
objects  here  he  must  have  his  dragoman.  We  are 
fortunate  in  having  Antonio  Sawabeni.  He  was 
the  guide  of  the  Brazilian  Emperor.  This  he  is 
proud  to  say.  He  is  a  Catholic,  and  has  wounds, 
from  boyhood,  growing  out  of  the  massacre  of 
1860.  He  is  well  educated  and  speaks  English  in- 
telligently. 

Our  consulate  here  is  under  the  charge  of  Mr. 
Meshaka,  who  provided  us  with  a  cavass  whose  ap- 
pearance was  both  authoritative  and  picturesque. 
His  name  is  Selim  El  Havet,  and  his  golden  em- 
broidered and  braided  jacket,  above  his  widely  flow- 
ing white  pants,  with  his  silken  turban  of  red  and 
gold,  gave  ornament  to  his  genius.  He  had  genius 
for  command,  and,  if  naturalized,  would  make  an 
excellent  sergeant-at-arms  to  Congress.  Children 
gave  way  to  him  ;  grown  people  looked  after  him, 
and  honored  us  because  of  him ;  and  soldiers  sa- 
luted us  because  of  his  relation  to  our  Government. 
The  bazaars,  once  unknown  as  pathways  for  car- 
riages, now  were  free  to  our  landau,  when  his  pres- 
ence was  seen  as  its  directing  force.  When  he 
organized  us  for  our  observations  this  morning — it 
was  with  a  carriage  !  A  carriage  is  as  strange  in 
these  narrow  streets  as  a  white  elephantine  Jumbo 
of  the  King  of  Siam  would  be  in  the  Bowery. 
When,  therefore,  we  went  out  of  our  hotel,  under  a 
low  door,  metallic,  and  four  feet  high,  and  mounted 


246  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

our  carriage,  we  had  no  idea  of  the  perils  we  would 
undergo  and  overcome  from  loaded  camels  and 
donkeys  in  the  narrow  ways. 

These  bazaars  of  Damascus  are  celebrated. 
They  are,  like  those  we  saw  at  Broussa  and  Con- 
stantinople, screened  from  sun  in  summer  and  snow 
in  winter.  They  consist  of  long,  covered  wooden 
sheds  for  each  trade,  and  open  stalls  where  goods 
are  displayed.  The  smoking  salesman  sits  com- 
fortably on  a  rug  in  front  of  his  little  wareroom. 
There  is  no  limitation  on  the  kind  and  number  of 
Asiatics  who  throng  these  cool,  dark  thoroughfares. 
What  a  medley  of  men  and  miscegenation  of  man- 
kind !  All  colors,  from  ebony  to  ivory,  in  face  and 
wardrobe ;  all  shapes  of  matter,  men,  and  women, 
and  all  sorts  of  movements,  jabber,  and  cries !  The 
fierce,  dark  Bedouin,  with  his  light  turban  tied 
about  his  dark  hair  by  a  rope  of  black  wool,  and 
his  weapons  handy  in  his  sash,  is  here.  He  is  be- 
ing measured  for  his  clothes,  trying  his  tobacco,  or 
buying  his  shoes  and  saddles.  We  exchanged  some 
civilities  at  a  tailor's  stall  with  a  sheik  from  near 
Bagdad.  My  wife  said  to  him  that  if  we  had  more 
time  she  would  like  to  visit  the  famous  city  of 
Bagdad,  known  so  far  and  near.  He  gave  a  quick, 
honest  glance,  and  said : 

"  We  will  assure  your  safety  and  ease.  Go  with 
us!" 

These  Bedouin  promises  are  kept  with  fidelity, 
and  but  for  trusts  at  home  we  should  have  "rushed 
under  his  belt"  and  taken  his  offer. 

Our  first  venture  was  through  the  horse  market, 
where  the  spirited  horses  of  the  Arabs  are  shown 
off  and  bought  and  sold  by  auction.  Then  we  go 
to  the  great  mosque.  It  is  like  many  mosques  of 


DAMASCUS. 


247 


Greek  or  other  origin  than  Mohammedan.  In- 
scriptions, quite  ancient,  in  Greek  show  this.  It 
adds  to  the  Christian  architecture  the  dome  and 
minaret,  arcade  and  pavement,  and  fountains  of 
musical  water,  with  their  flexile  columns  in  the 
light.  These  are  Moslem.  Taking  off  our  shoes, 
we  walked  through  its  length,  some  one  hundred 
and  sixty-three  yards,  and  across  its  width,  one 
hundred  and  eight  yards,  and  over  its  hundreds  of 
carpets,  on  which  a  dozen  Mohammedans  were 
asleep  in  the  cool  shades  by  the  murmuring  fount- 
ains. Here,  in  and  out  of  the  structure,  under  the 
arcades,  in  the  great  court,  and  under  the  splendid 
dome,  are  arches  and  pillars  of  all  forms  of  beauty 
and  arrangement.  Colored  marbles  and  mosaics, 
and  a  thousand  tasteful  arabesque  attractions  make 
this  mosque  the  most  interesting — next  to  St. 
Sophia — of  any  in  Moslemdom.  Its  site  is  sacred. 
Its  library  of  choice  books  and  manuscripts  is  lifted 
on  columns,  inaccessible  except  by  a  ladder.  Some 
of  its  columns  are  from  the  Temple  of  the  Sun  at 
Palmyra,  and  others  from  temples  of  equal  renown. 
The  elder  religion  of  Syria  was  that  of  Baal — the 
Sun — and  there  is  much  here,  as  well  as  at  Baal- 
bee,  to  illustrate  the  splendid  dedication  of  art  to 
this  worship  of  the  blazing  deity.  Here  was  once 
a  marble  tabernacle  for  the  Sun,  and  it  had  a  glo- 
rious litany.  I  remembered  the  story  of  Naaman  and 
his  love  of  the  rivers  of  Damascus,  and  the  worship 
of  Rimmon,  from  which  he  was  turned  when  cured 
of  his  leprosy  by  the  Jordan  and  the  prophet.  I 
wondered,  too,  if  this  strange  structure  was  not  the 
inspiration  of  that  beauteous  altar  which  Ahaz  had 
seen  on  his  visit  to  Damascus,  and  which  he  had 
copied  for  his  sacrificial  offerings  in  Jerusalem.  A 


248  FROM  POLE    TO   PYRAMID. 

hundred  other  associations  of  this  worship  gather 
about  this  spot,  illuminated  by  Orient  sunbeams. 

After  a  promenade  about  its  courts,  where  but 
a  few  years  ago  no  profane  Christian  foot  was  al- 
lowed, we  summon  one  of  the  imps  of  the  place. 
He  appears,  not  with  Aladdin's  lamp,  but  with  a 
lantern  some  three  feet  by  two.  Open  flies  the 
creaking  door,  under  the  magic  of  a  rattling,  rusty 
key,  and  a  Napoleon  in  gold  !  This  latter  magic, 
we  find,  is  a  special  stipulation  with  the  consulates, 
whose  subjects  were  often  taxed  double  for  this 
privilege.  The  gate  closes  with  a  clang,  and  the 
lock  is  turned,  so  that  no  unholy  intruder  may  en- 
ter. We  ascend  a  devious  gallery — our  cavass  in 
front — up  the  three  hundred  steps  which  lead  to 
the  main  minaret  and  into  the  light.  What  a  pic- 
ture, bathed  in  shimmering  sunshine  !  In  its  praise 
may  we  not  sing  a  new  song  ?  Is  it  not  wondrous 
in  its  strangeness,  and  strange  in  its  loveliness  ? 
Turn  whithersoever  we  will,  high  and  above  all 
appear  the  calcined  mountains,  as  turreted  walls  of 
rock,  guarding  the  treasures  of  this  enchanted  city. 
Lebanon  and  its  glories  lift  their  misty  elevations 
under  great  shadowy  clouds ;  and  Hermon,  the 
monarch  of  Syrian  mountains,  in  his  brown  robes, 
sweeping  down  to  the  valley,  is  illuminated  by  a 
crown  of  snow.  Turn  wheresoever  we  will,  this 
noble  triple  grandeur  of  Mount  Hermon,  with  his 
tiara  of  splendor,  overmasters  all  other  imagery. 
Look  below.  The  appearance  instantly  discloses 
why  Damascus  is  the  gem  of  the  Orient.  Its  flat- 
roofed,  whitish-brown  houses  are  set  squarely  on 
the  earth,  amid  orchards  whose  green  is  in  pleasing 
contrast  with  the  umber  of  the  horizon  surrounding 
it,  above  and  beyond.  Below  us,  on  the  west,  is 


DAMASCUS. 


249 


the  old  castle.  It  is  itself  a  chief  object,  but  in  the 
whole  view  only  an  incident.  Around  us  are  the 
bulbous  roofs  of  the  mosques,  baths,  and  khans.  Do 
you  see  those  old  stones  in  partial  arch,  with  rare 
ornamentation,  hidden  almost  in  the  modern  walls  ? 
That  is  an  old  triumphal  arch.  It  is  Roman  ;  but, 
like  many  similar  monuments,  it  serves  only  as  a 
prop  or  aid  to  modern  edifices  of  questionable 
taste. 

Often  had  I  heard  of  the  remark  of  Mohammed, 
who,  looking  at  Damascus  from  the  outside,  ex- 
claimed :  "I  will  not  enter  thy  gates !  My  para- 
dise is  reserved  for  the  next  world ! "  With  my 
glass  I  easily  see  upon  the  summit  of  the  whitish 
limestone  mountain  in  the  distance,  some  four 
thousand  feet  high,  a  little  temple  or  marabout,  to 
fix  and  celebrate  the  spot  from  which  he  sighed 
and  looked  at  this  earthly  Eden.  Turning  to  the 
east  we  see  white  houses.  They  form  suburbs 
upon  the  sides  of  the  mountains,  and  to  the  west 
the  canals  and  rivers  are  marked  by  emerald  belts. 
Here  is  the  Christian  quarter,  the  East  Gate,  and 
the  cemeteries.  To  the  south  there  is  a  large  area 
of  groves  ;  for,  where  water  is  so  scarce  and  the 
brown  and  bleak  are  so  common,  verdure  becomes 
exceedingly  precious.  Looking  closely  in  our  sur- 
rounding circuit,  we  are  within  hail — so  clear  is  the 
sunlit  air — of  the  other  minarets  of  this  old  temple. 
Across  the  way,  in  the  centre  of  the  northern  court, 
is  the  minaret  of  the  "  Bride  " — white,  with  a  few 
rosy  colors.  It  is  as  graceful  in  its  heavenward 
gesture  as  the  beautiful  woman  in  whose  honor  it  is 
erected  in  this  city  of  graces.  Then,  arising  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  feet  high  out  of  this  mosque,  is  the 
minaret — of  Jesus !  Truly  it  is  wonderful — this  apo- 


250 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


theosis  of  our  Saviour  !  But  it  is  not  so  wonderful 
when  we  perceive  within  the  mosque  a  splendid  tomb 
v/hich  incloses  the  head  of  John  the  Baptist,  he  of 
the  wilderness.  He,  too,  is  recognized  as  pro- 
phetic, and,  like  all  these  seers  of  the  Orient,  he 
came  forth  from  the  solitudes  and  silence  of  the 
desert  to  proclaim  rules  of  faith  and  duty.  As 
such  the  oriental  mind  recognizes  them.  It  is  not 
so  wonderful,  when  we  reflect  that  Jesus  is  rec- 
ognized by  the  Moslem  as  a  great  teacher  and 
prophet,  and  that  the  pride  of  Syria  enshrined  here 
does  not  disdain,  in  this  emblematic  way,  to  stoop 
in  recognition  of  "the  Judge  of  the  World,  Jesus 
Christ,"  who,  when  he  comes,  will  descend  upon 
this  elegant  minaret ! 

O 

How  the  presence  of  our  Saviour  sweetens  the 
associations  of  this  place.  A  man  once  said  to  a 
lump  of  clay,  "  What  art  thou  ?  "  The  reply  was, 
"  I  am  but  a  lump  of  clay,  but  I  was  placed  beside 
a  rose  and  I  caught  its  fragrance."  Yet,  when  we 
reflect,  the  seminal  and  capital  idea  of  Mohammed- 
anism, is  only  a  projection  of  the  Hebraic  and 
Christian  system.  It  is  Oriental.  Out  of  these 
deserts  came  that  spiritual  sublimity  which  knew 
no  images  in  its  worship.  Zoroaster,  Buddha, 
Moses,  Christ  and  Mohammed,  taught  one  truth  in 
common.  But  it  is  strange  that  in  this  city  of 
reputed  bigotry  toward  Christians,  Christ  should 
be  the  judge  of  quick  and  dead  ! 

It  is  my  opinion  that  if  the  judgment  should 
take  place  here,  there  would  be  some  other 
"  bloody  and  deceitful "  men,  besides  those  whom 
Lord  Dufferin,  the  English  Commissioner,  sen- 
tenced, and  punished  for  their  persecution  and 
massacre  of  the  devotees  of  Jesus  in  1860. 


DAMASCUS. 


251 


Then  descending,  we  began  our  venture  through 
the  bazaars.  We  made  considerable  headway 
through  the  "street  which  is  called  Straight,"  and 
which  has  given  rise  to  some  profane  crookedness 
of  criticism,  for  which  I  have  no  sympathy,  and  by 
those  who  will  not  consider  that  all  things  are 
comparative.  It  was  and  is  straight,  as  this  world 
counts  straightness.  Its  rectilinearness  is  one  of 
the  cumulative  proofs  of  the  story  of  St.  Paul's 
conversion,  not  lightly  to  be  omitted. 

We  pass  the  crowds  of  women  who  are  in  the 
bazaars  to  buy.  The  silk  department  is  full  of  fe- 
males. The  Christian  women  are  draped  in  pure 
white  from  head  to  foot,  but  their  faces  are  not 
concealed.  They  seem  singularly  spiritual.  The 
Arab  women  have  their  faces  hidden — not  a  la 
Turque,  with  only  those  perilous,  dreamy  eyes 
shining  out  of  the  involutions  of  the  yashmak,  but 
under  a  dark-figured,  square,  gauzy  veil,  around 
which  is  a  large,  flowing  mantle  of  varied  hue. 
This  dress  is  puzzling  to  curiosity.  The  "children 
of  this  azure  sheen  "  have  black  eyes ;  and  there 
are  no  children — especially  the  girls — to  compare 
with  these  in  beauty, — except  those  of  my  past, 
present,  and  future  Congressional  districts  ! 

Damascus  is  full  of  Biblical  associations.  Its 
environs  have  villages  and  caves  which  have  a 
record  in  the  historical  portions  of  our  Scriptures. 
Tradition  here,  among  the  Arabs  and  Jews,  is  not 
to  be  despised  as  a  medium  of  memory.  Unlike 
the  nonsensical  nebulous  myths  of  other  lands, 
these  traditions  have  coherency  and  reason  to  en- 
dorse them.  Rock-hewn  wells,  tombs,  and  temples 
confirm  holy  sites,  and  even  the  ancient  customs, 
as  described  in  the  Bible,  are  reproduced  as  they 


252 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


were  three  thousand  and  more  years  ago.  Who 
can  refuse  to  believe  that  Abraham  once  ruled  in 
Damascus,  and  that  he  came  hither  out  of  Chaldea 
before  he  went  into  Canaan  ?  Josephus  proves  it, 
and  every  Bedouin  in  the  bazaar,  on  the  road, 
tented  in  the  fields,  or  ploughing  left-handed  with 
his  rude  wooden  ploughshare,  and  driving  his  oxen 
with  his  antique  goad,  is  Abraham's  photographic 
similitude.  The  travels  of  the  Apostles  about  these 
shores  and  lands  are  confirmed  by  geography.  It 
is  impossible  to  mistake  the  present  Damascus,  and 
its  walls  and  streets,  for  other  than  the  Damascus 
of  Holy  Writ.  Roman  remains  mark  these  spots, 
as  if  they  wore  the  signet  of  emperors,  kings,  te- 
trarchs,  and  prefects. 

If  you  are  sceptical  as  to  the  story  of  Paul's 
conversion,  go  with  me  to  the  traditional  places, 
and,  although  you  may  doubt  the  miracle,  and  call 
it,  out  of  courtesy,  a  fable,  you  will  not  doubt  that 
right  here — somewhere  in,  about,  or  on  these 
walls — the  scenes  described  in  the  ninth  chapter  of 
"  Acts "  are  verities.  The  precise  spot  is  shown 
where  the  slaughter-breathing  Saul  saw  new  light. 
It  is  near  Damascus,  and  on  the  old  Roman  road. 
We  know  that  it  is  a  Roman  road,  and  that  it  was 
at  the  eastern  gate  he  entered,  "  led  by  the  hand." 
If  we  are  not  certain  that  the  spot  we  are  about  to 
visit  is  the  house  of  Ananias,  certainly  it  was  in 
the  eastern  quarter,  and  in  "  the  street  which  is 
called  Straight,"  which  was  the  lodging-place  of 
Paul.  Let  us  not  be  too  critical.  Certainly  this 
is  a  spot  of  wonders,  even  speaking  after  the 
methods  of  men.  This  remarkable  scholar  and 
lawyer,  Paul — whose  name  is  sounded  from  every 
pulpit  in  Christendom ;  in  whose  name  temples  of 


DAMASCUS. 


253 


the  Lord  have  arisen  for  two  thousand  years, 
from  Damascus,  in  the  very  home  of  his  conver- 
sion, to  proud  old  Rome  which  imprisoned  him  ; 
and  from  Rome  to  New  York ;  from  the  little 
church  around  the  corner,  in  Hammerfest,  under 
the  midnight  sun  in  Arctic  Norway,  to  the  mighty 
minster  of  Christopher  Wren,  at  London — this 
grand  teacher  of  the  Gentiles  certainly  had  great 
agony  of  spirit  and  darkness  of  mind  until  the 
scales  fell  from  his  eyes  on  this  very  road  to 
Damascus ! 

"  Go,"  we  say  to  our  guide,  Sawabeni,  "  to  the 
house  of  Ananias  !  " 

Would  you  expect  it  to  be  above  ground  ?  Not 
after  so  long  a  time,  for  time  will  cover  with  its 
mounds  all  things  sacred,  even  when  the  substruc- 
tures remain.  Winding  among  narrow  streets 
and  walls,  whose  heavy  doors  show  significantly 
the  precautions  of  these  habitants  of  the  Christian 
quarter,  the  cavass  at  length  touches  a  knocker. 
We  are  quietly  ushered  through  some  rooms  occu- 
pied by  poor  people.  We  pass  down  into  a  vaulted 
chamber  where,  there  is  a  little  Catholic  chapel. 
Several  prints,  representing  the  martyrdom  by  the 
cross  of  priests  in  China,  and  pictures  of  St. 
Jerome  and  St.  Francis  are  upon  the  plain  walls. 
Over  the  simple  altar  is  a  good  painting  of  St. 
Paul.  His  black  beard  and  hair  and  intellectual 
courage  are  well  represented.  He  is  kneeling  be- 
fore a  fair-haired  man.  This  is  the  good  and  truth- 
ful Ananias,  who  baptizes  him.  In  one  corner  of 
the  room  is  a  large  bronze  lamp,  which  is  lit  after 
nightfall.  Our  Catholic  dragoman  grows  eloquent 
over  the  scene.  As  the  cavass  cannot  understand 
his  English,  he  breaks  forth  in  praise  of  his  own 


254  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

father,  who  fell  in  the  massacre  of  1860,  "cut  in 
two  pieces,"  he  says,  "  by  the  scimitar  of  the  Mo- 
hammedans. His  last  words  were, 'I  die  for  my  re- 
ligion.' They  asked  me  if  I  would  not  be  a  Mos- 
lem. I  did  not  know  then  more  than  to  follow  my 
father,  and  so  I  said,  '  No,  I  will  die  with  father,  and 
for  the  sake  of  his  Saviour.'  They  wounded  me 
here,"  as  he  pointed  to  his  cheek,  "  and  I  am  a  liv- 
ing proof  of  that  terrible  time."  A  deaf  and  dumb 
boy  makes  his  mute  appeal  to  us  as  \ve  enter  the 
gateway,  and  we  pluck  some  lavender  and  flowers 
in  the  court  as  we  leave  the  house  of  Ananias. 

Riding  becomes  impossible  at  this  point ;  so  we 
walk  to  the  eastern  gate  to  see  three  objects  :  one, 
the  grave  of  Buckle  ;  another,  the  alleged  scene  of 
Paul's  conversion  ;  and  the  third,  the  wall  where 
he  was  let  down  in  a  basket.  We  come  out  under 
one  of  the  three  portals,  for  the  "gate"  is  three- 
fold, and  find  ourselves  in  the  midst  of  a  herd  of 
black  goats.  Donkeys  raise  their  dissonant  music 
in  the  narrow  way.  Out  into  the  grassless  cara- 
vansary we  come.  It  is  a  sandy  plain,  where  there 
is  a  runlet  of  running  water.  There  the  camels, 
mules,  and  cattle  congregate,  after  their  journeys 
from  Bagdad,  with  silks,  dates,  and  carpets.  It 
will  accommodate  four  thousand  camels.  We  per- 
ceive a  hundred  camels  resting  in  the  sun.  As  we 
pass  they  show  their  teeth,  as  if  we  were  of  the 
infidel  order.  My  wife  never  forgives  this  patient 
beast  since  one  of  them  ran  away  with  her  toward 
Timbuctoo,  in  Algiers,  being  frightened  at  her 
black  'dress.  However,  they  are  not  more  dan- 
gerous than  the  donkey,  and  we  move  amid  them 
to  see  the  cemeteries  which  line  the  place. 

There    is  here  a   large  mausoleum,  where   the 


a 


-    DAMASCUS.  255 

bones  of  the  massacred  Christians  of  1860  are  de- 
posited. Here,  too,  are  the  flat  and  dusty  tomb- 
stones of  the  Christian  cemetery,  and  near  by  is  a 
rock.  It  is  a  mark  of  the  spot  where  the  great 
apostle  received  his  new  light.  Altogether  it  is  a 
rough  and  dusty  spot,  but  a  portion  of  the  old 
Damascus  highway  is  saved  by  the  veneration  of 
the  Latin  monks,  who  have  celebrated  it  by  distin- 
guishing monuments.  It  may  not  be,  however,  so 
well  avouched  as  the  place  on  the  wall  where  St. 
Paul  was  let  down  when  he  escaped  to  Jerusalem. 
This  is  pictured  to  the  eye  in  the  engraving.  It 
was  customary,  in  those  days,  to  live  upon  the 
walls,  and  George — St.  George,  for  he  has  been 
sainted — who  was  the  porter  of  the  gate,  is  said  to 
have  lived  upon  this  wall.  He  kept  this  gate.  The 
fact  is  briefly  recorded  by  St.  Paul  in  second  Co- 
rinthians, nth  chapter,  33d  verse.  The  spot  is  in 
an  angle  of  the  wall,  which  is  fifty  feet  high,  and 
whose  old  portions  have  been  supplemented  by 
Saracenic  handicraft.  The  gate  itself  was  long  since 
closed.  Near  by,  under  the  shadow  of  some  wal- 
nut trees,  is  a  tomb  to  George,  the  porter,  who 
was  beheaded  for  his  kindness  to  Paul  on  this 
spot.  An  iron  fence  and  a  little  temple  honor  his 
remains.  The  inscriptions  are  worn  off,  but  a 
cross  is  there,  and  in  a  hole  in  the  square  tomb 
is  a  little  antique  lamp.  This  is  lighted  every 
night. 

We  cast  some  curious  glances  at  the  tombs 
around,  and  their  Arab  inscriptions.  These  were 
Christian  Arabs.  Their  tombs,  like  all  except 
those  of  Moslems,  are  not  allowed  to  be  erect  ! 
Their  flatness  is  a  sign  of  the  subjected  race.  I 
ask  the  dragoman  to  read  me  one  inscription. 


256  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

"They  each  have  on  them,"  he  says,  "the  God- 
Father  prayer." 

Here  and  there  are  conspicuous  tombs  of  Arab 
chiefs — they  are  almost  temples — square,  with  a 
dome.  Around  this  open  space  are  walls  over 
which  are  seen  bountiful  orchards.  "  The  dust  of 
the  wind "  blows  freely  over  the  space,  but  the 
camels  chew  the  cud  regardless  of  it ;  for  are 
they  not  born  to  the  sands  of  the  desert  ?  A  few 
Arab  boys  lie  asleep  in  the  shade  of  the  walls, 
careless  of  the  dust  from  the  debris  of  the  fires  of 
the  massacre  days  of  1860,  which  has  been  piled 
up  outside  the  city.  A  few  fierce  Druses  from  the 
Lebanon,  weather-worn  and  gray-headed,  pass  by 
on  donkeys  and  horses.  The  sight  of  them  makes 
our  Christian  guide  voluble  with  indignation,  for  it 
was  the  "bad  Druses"  who  showed  themselves 
most  bloody  and  vindictive  in  1860. 

We  take  a  farewell  of  this  singular  place,  solitary 
yet  peopled  with  so  much  of  which  to  think.  We 
go  round  about  these  tombs,  towers,  and  gates, 
and  mark  well  the  bulwarks.  Alas  !  that  it  should 
be  only  a  place  for  the  camel  and  the  trader.  It 
smells  of  myrrh  and  aloes  and  cassia  out  of  the 
ivory  palaces.  But  it  does  not  "  make  glad,"  for 
over  yonder  yellow  wall,  in  the  English  cemetery, 
lies  the  body  of  the  great  philosophic  scholar 
whose  life  was  so  prematurely  clouded  by  disease, 
and  whose  light  was  quenched  in  this  marvelous 
city,  to  which  he  ventured  for  health  and  repose. 

Buckle  died  of  typhus  fever  on  the  2Qth  of  May, 
1862.  He  had  been  overworked  upon  his  famous 
second  volume,  and  left  England,  and  spent  the 
winter  in  Egypt,  He  had  recovered  his  health,  and 
was  traveling  in  Palestine  on  horseback,  when  he 


DAMASCUS. 


257 


was  again  stricken  down  at  Nazareth.  He  had 
reached  Sidon,  and  overtasked  his  strength  in  the 
trip  hither.  Under  the  influence  of  opiates  in  his 
last  sickness,  he  frequently  exclaimed  in  his  despair  : 
"  Oh,  my  book  !  my  book  !  "  He  had  every  care 
from  the  English  and  American  consuls,  physicians, 
and  missionaries.  He  was  forty  years  of  age.  He 
had  an  ample  fortune,  but  his  delight  was  in  his 
library.  He  was,  par  excellence,  a  student ;  a  stu- 
dent with  a  philosophic  theory.  He  was  buried  on 
the  afternoon  of  the  day  of  his  death.  The  English 
service  was  read  over  his  remains.  For  some  time 
no  monument  marked  his  grave.  Thanks  to  the 
sister  of  the  English  consul,  at  length  there  is  an 
altar-tomb  of  pure  white  marble,  framed  within  a 
border  of  black  basalt,  with  a  foundation  of  sienna- 
colored  stone  resting  on  a  base  of  black  basalt,  to 
mark  the  spot.  Around  it  is  a  pavement,  over- 
grown by  brambles  and  grass.  An  epitaph,  written 
by  his  sister,  Mrs.  Allatt,  simply  gives  the  name, 
age,  and  day  of  decease.  To  this  is  added  an 
old  Arabic  phrase,  signifying  that  the  written  word 
survives  the  author.  The  Arabic  inscription  is  in 
white  on  a  black  ground.  The  tomb  is  oblong  and 
exceedingly  plain. 

Who  among  the  princes  of  the  East  can  be  com- 
pared with  the  author  of  the  "  History  of  Civiliza- 
tion ? "  One  great  longing  of  my  heart  was  to 
stand  over  his  grave  in  this  distant  land.  There 
it  is,  over  that  hateful  wall.  The  wall  is  twenty 
feet  high,  with  no  ingress.  Must  I  leave  Damas- 
cus without  my  tribute  at  this  tomb,  whose  occu- 
pant, when  in  his  round  full  being  won  so  many 
chaplets  in  the  arena  of  philosophic  analysis  ? 
Does  he  not  deserve  something  more  than  a  re- 


258  FROM  POLE    TO   PYRAMID. 

mote  grave  amid  these  rude  Arab  monuments  ? 
A  niche  in  th-e  Pantheon  of  Fame,  along  with  the 
thoughtful  worthies  of  mankind  would  be  more 
fitting  for  his  immortalization.  I  am  resolved 
to  see  that  grave.  Our  cavass  mounts  a  lower 
wall,  and  brushes  away  the  tangled  briers  ;  the 
coachman  gives  me  his  back  as  a  stepping-stone, 
and  with  the  help  of  the  dragoman  I  mount.  I 
see  the  grave.  It  is  near  that  of  Lady  Digby,  the 
English  wife  of  an  Arab  sheik,  who  could  not  rival 
Lady  Hester  Stanhope,  but  who  has  just  ended 
another  eccentric  career.  The  tombs  of  Shelley 
and  Keats  I  have  seen  at  Rome,  and  during  the 
summer  have  visited  many  resting-places  of  the 
gifted  in  our  literature,  from  that  of  Alexander 
Pope  to  that  of  Benjamin  Disraeli.  But  to  none 
do  I  pay  such  willing  reverence  as  to  his  who 
welded  the  events  of  earthly  history  by  links  of 
gold,  and  gave  concatenation  and  laws  to  the  seem- 
ing chances  and  inconsequences  of  human  conduct. 
And  now  all  that  is  mortal  of  Buckle  lies  here  in 
cold  obstruction !  The  sweet  breezes  blow  down 
from  dewy  Hermon,  and  wave  the  apricot  and 
walnut  trees  which  form  the  canopy  of  his  tomb. 
Around  are  many  other  graves  and  flat  tombs, 
amid  the  brown,  uncut  grasses,  in  this  small  God's 
acre  ;  but  his  tomb  is  distinguished  even  here.  It 
is  surrounded  by  a  railing  of  iron,  but  out  of  its 
plain  slabs  rises  no  column  of  marble,  broken  at 
the  top,  symbolic  of  his  work  and  his  fate.  Amid 
the  leafy  luxuriance  of  the  adjoining  orchard  rises 
one  elegant,  stately  poplar,  plumed  at  its  summit, 
but,  unlike  the  rest  of  the  foliage,  yellow  with  pre- 
mature decay  —  another  emblem  of  the  lonely 
death  of  that  elegant  and  rational  student  whose 


DAMASCUS. 


259 


muse  of  history  was  a  Minerva  for  wisdom,  and 
whose  simple  eloquence  was  to  me  more  than  that 
of  Plato  for  diction  and  dignity ! 

When  Buckle  was  entombed  here  the  Moham- 
medan bigots  had  destroyed  the  trees  and  mutilated 
the  tombs.  Vain,  infatuate  fury  !  They  could  not 
destroy  the  theses  on  which  he  founded  his  philoso- 
phy. How  impotent  seems  a  mob.  Its  unrea- 
soning bigotry  only  adds  to  the  glory  of  immortal 
natures. 

Buckle  gave  us,  after  Adam  Smith,  the  best 
science  of  wealth,  natural  and  social.  He  discrim- 
inated between  social  and  individual  laws.  In  his 
method  of  averages  he  used  almost  mathematical 
theories  ;  but  they  were,  after  all,  moral  probabili- 
ties. He  aggrandized  the  intellectual  in  the  social 
life  ;  and  the  moral  in  the  individual  life.  He  was 
—in  his  enthusiasm  for  truth  and  liberty — a  bigot 
against  intolerance  !  "  But  he  was  a  sceptic,"  says 
some  superficial  preacher.  With  tears  in  his  eyes 
and  his  ambition  discomfited  by  disease  and  death, 
he  was  able  to  exclaim  :  "  Without  immortality 
life  would  be  insupportable.  I  believe  in  God  !  " 

His  weary  star  was  here  enlarged.  He  sought, 
from  zone  to  zone,  strength  for  his  body,  to  com- 
plete his  conceptions.  Was  he  not  guided — even 
when  dying  alone — by  that  Power  which  led  his 
flight  aright  ? 

Perhaps  it  does  not  matter  where  the  mere  shell 
of  such  an  intellectual  soul  as  that  of  Buckle  re- 
poses. Perhaps  it  was  his  own  wish  to  sleep  be- 
neath these  whispering  trees,  under  the  influences 
of  the  beauty  of  Lebanon  !  Perhaps  his  spirit,  as 
it  took  its  leave  of  earth,  rejoiced  in  yonder  pale 
azure  scarf  and  snow-crowned  royalty  of  Hermon, 


26o  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

and  found  the  analogue  of  its  studious  life  in  the 
condensations  of  a  higher  atmosphere,  from  whose 
clouds  of  white,  rivaling  the  snow  in  purity,  comes 
down  upon  the  thirsty  land  abundant  refreshment, 
even  "as  the  dew  of  Hermon,  the  dew  that  de- 
scended upon  the  mountains  of  Zion  !  " 

My  little  band  wondered  that  I  lingered  upon 
this  wall,  to  muse  over  this  to  them  unknown  man, 
whose  spirit  seemed  to  breathe  in  the  clustered 
trees,  whose  chant  was  a  part  of  the  infinite  har- 
mony in  which  his  spirit  found  repose.  Our  drago- 
man became  a  little  jealous  of  my  devotion  to  the 
Englishman's  grave,  for  the  dragoman's  sentiment 
was  hovering  around  the  tomb  of  the  apocryphal 
St.  George  the  porter,  while  our  cavass  cast  rev- 
erent eyes  toward  the  mausoleum  of  the  Moslem 
hermit  near  by,  as  if  all  earthly  good  had  lived  and 
died  with  him. 

"Antonio,"  I  say,  interpreting  his  thoughts,  "St. 
George  has  gone." 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  and  St.  Paul  is  gone." 

"  But  he  lives,"  I  respond,  "  in  mighty  words, 
spoken  for  all  time." 

To  which  he  replies  :  "  Yes,  and  but  for  St. 
George  he  never  could  have  spoken  or  written  these 
words  at  Jerusalem,  Philippi,  Ephesus,  and  Rome." 

Marveling  at  the  turn  of  his  thought,  I  say : 
"  And  a  greater  than  St.  Paul  never  wore  earth 
about  him,  save  One  ! " 

Truly  it  may  be  said  that  among  those  who 
were  worthy  to  sit  at  St.  Paul's  feet,  as  he  sat  at 
the  feet  of  Gamaliel,  was  the  rare  English  scholar 
over  whose  tomb  no  vestal  lamp  burns,  but  whose 
analytic  thought  only  did  not  reach  apostolic  ex- 
altation. 


DAMASCUS.  261 

Paul,  the  eloquent  Jew,  and  Buckle,  the  accom- 
plished Englishman,  will  ever  rest  in  my  mind  to- 
gether. One  of  them  clearly  saw  the  celestial  light 
and  heard  the  divine  voice.  The  other  was  not 
unworthy  to  be  a  "  chosen  vessel "  unto  God,  to 
bear  his  name  before  Gentiles  and  kings,  and  to 
suffer  great  things  for  his  name's  sake. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  leave  Damascus  with- 
out an  attempt  at  least  to  see  Abd-el-Kader,  the 
famous  Emir  of  Algiers,  whose  native  city,  Mili- 
anah,  we  visited  in  1869.  We  were  promised 
under  our  national  convoy  an  interview  with  him 
if  we  visited  Damascus.  But  he  is  absent  at  his 
country-seat,  and  we  have  missed  the  opportunity 
of  interviewing  the  old  hero  of  North  Africa  as  to 
the  recent  and  forthcoming  movements  in  the 
Mohammedan  world.  I  should  like  to  have  asked 
him  what  the  Sublime  Porte  means  by  resuming 
its  effete  suzerainty  in  Northern  Africa.  I  should 
like  to  have  had  his  opinion  as  to  the  progress  of 
that  unity  for  Pan-Islamism  which  is  giving  occu- 
pation and  anxiety  to  Western  Cabinets. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

A  HEBREW   HOUSE   IN  DAMASCUS— DAMASCUS  MIRTH  AND 

MUSIC. 

And  I  will  rejoice  in  Jerusalem,  and  joy  in  my  people.  *  * 
There  shall  be  no  more  thence  an  infant  of  days,  nor  an  old  man 
that  hath  not  filled  his  days.  *  *  And  they  shall  build  houses, 
and  inhabit  them. — ISAIAH  Ixv. 

IT  is  impossible,  in  moving  about  among  these 
reminders  of  religious  service  and  suffering  in 
Damascus,  to  disregard  the  potential  element  of 
the  Jewish  mind.  This  reflection  made  me  recall 
a  promise  I  had  made  to  visit  an  eminent  Israelite 
at  his  own  house.  Even  the  most  opulent  of  this 
race  are  housed  in  the  Jewish  quarter.  Passing 
through  this  quarter  we  peep  into  the  doors  of 
many  poor  Jews  ;  yet  we  find  no  beggars  there. 
Cats  and  dogs,  pigeons  and  children  in  plenty ; 
some  distaffs,  and  signs  of  dyeing  and  weaving, 
but  no  signs  of  discomfort — all  in  contrast  to  the 
poor  Jewish  refugees  we  saw  flying  to  Turkey  and 
Judea  for  safety  from  German  and  Russian  big- 
otry and  spite. 

The  Jewish  quarter  is  in  the  southern  portion  of 
the  city,  within  the  old  walls,  and  not  far  from  the 
eastern  gate.  We  enter  the  gate,  and  winding 
between  the  narrow  walls,  which  give  no  promise 
of  the  sumptuous  houses  within,  we  are  at  length 
within  the  court  of  the  eminent  Hebrew  of  Da- 
mascus, Maire  Effendi. 

262 


LIFE  IN  DAMASCUS.  263 

He  was  clad  in  the  costume  of  the  East,  with 
the  fez  on  the  head  and  the  flowing-  and  furrowed 
garments  to  the  feet.  He  was  full-bearded,  and 
beautiful  in  the  expression  of  his  eye  and  counte- 
nance. This  was  a  visit  worthy  of  a  daintier  pen 
than  mine.  I  fail  to  recall  the  exquisite  oriental- 
ism and  luxurious  taste  which  met  us  as  we  went, 
under  the  courteous  guidance  of  the  Effendi,  into 
his  audience  chamber.  All  that  I  had  read  of 
Eastern  poesy — all  that  I  had  seen  at  the  Alham- 
bra — seems  here  to  be  encrusted,  painted,  carved, 
decorated,  in  choicest  arabesque.  Tiny  marble 
temples,  and  larger  alabaster  columns,  rich  in  hue 
and  exquisite  in  tracery;  subdued  light  from 
"  richly  dight  "  windows ;  arches  of  Byzantine  ele- 
gance ;  and  fountains  of  silver  droppings  and  jets  ; 
grand  yellow  Damascus  silk  hangings  and  otto- 
mans, and  tessellated  mosaics  in  many-colored 
marbles  furnish  the  feeble  description  of  my  poor 
pen  and  ink.  One  requires  the  delicate  and  gor- 
geous imagery  of  Keats  or  the  pencil  of  Jerome 
and  Meissonier  in  one  of  their  oriental  inter  ieurs,. 
to  give  an  adequate  idea  of  the  sensation  which 
the  bewildered  eye  bears  within  the  brain  for  its 
entrancement  at  a  glance  of  this  sumptuous  He- 
brew chamber.  Must  I  descend  to  the  mercenary, 
and  tell  the  thousands  which  this  one  chamber 
alone  cost ;  or  which  the  gold  enameling  of  palm 
and  pillar  would  weigh  in  minted  pounds,  roubles, 
eagles,  or  doubloons  ? 

The  Effendi  does  not  speak  English  or  French.. 
He  summons  his  son,  who  speaks  the  last  ;  and 
while  he  tenders  my  wife  all  the  welcomes,  the  Ef- 
fendi, in  Arabic — interpreted  by  the  dragoman — 
tenders  to  me  similar  urbanity.  My  wife  tells  o£ 


264  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

the  persecutions  of  the  Jews  in  Russia  and  else- 
where, in  which  "I  had  taken  some  public  interest 
in  Congress,  and  for  which  the  Israelitish  Alliance 
at  Paris  were  pleased  to  thank  me.  Whereupon 
they  remark  that  their  interest  is  one  with  the  Al- 
liance, with  which  they  correspond.  Thus  convers- 
ing— our  family  being  upon  the  yellow  ottomans, 
but  not  in  oriental  posture — we  are  served  with  a 
citron  conserve,  eaten  out  of  a  spoon  of  daintiest 
silver.  Only  one  spoonful  is  the  fashion.  While 
the  sweet  waters  murmur  and  the  cool  air  refreshes, 
in  comes  a  servant  bearing  cups  as  exquisite  as 
those  diamond  delicacies  with  which  Abdul  Hamid 
honored  us  when,  as  a  part  of  our  Minister's  reti- 
nue, we  were  received  at  the  palace  on  the  Bos- 
phorus.  Only  this,  that  these  Hebrew  cups  were 
set  in  filigree  of  silver  ;  but  the  coffee  had  an  aroma 
quite  equal  to  that  of  his  Majesty.  Pursuing  our 
talk,  the  Effendi  inquired  my  title  and  office.  He 
also  asks  my  name.  I  give  it.  "  Samuel !  Samuel !" 
he  repeats,  with  earnest  gaze  from  his  dark  eyes. 
"  Yes.  It  is  customary  for  us  to  prefix  the  names 
of  the  grand  Hebrew  fathers  to  that  of  our  own 
fathers."  I  did  not  leave  him  with  the  idea  that  I 
was  a  Hebrew  ;  but  I  should  be  proud  to  have  in 
my  veins  the  blood  of  Isaiah  and  Paul,  of  Cremieux 
and  Heine,  of  Treck  and  Moson. 

I  showed  him  my  special  passport  as  an  "  Hon- 
orable Member,"  with  the  sign-manual  of  Mr. 
Blaine  and  the  seal  of  the  United  States.  He 
asks  : 

"What  is  honorable?" 

It  was  as  puzzling  as  the  old  query,  "  What  is 
truth?"  The  dragoman  relieves  me  of  the  em- 
barrassment. He  designates  me  as  a  law-maker, 


LIFE  IN  DAMASCUS. 


265 


one  of  the  few  among  the  fifty  millions  who  make 
the  law  for  all. 

"  Ah  !  "  responds  the  Effendi,  "  a  shereef  !  " 

It  is  the  phrase  in  the  Orient  which  is  the  syno- 
nym of  Honorable,  and  from  it  comes  the  name  of 
our  own  sheriff ;  but  I  thought  of  my  constituent, 
Major  Bowe,  "  sheriff  of  the  county  and  city  of 
New  York,"  and  wondered  if  I  were  not  entrench- 
ing upon  his  merited  honor.  Be  it  known  that  the 
highest  honors  in  all  Moslemdom  is  that  of  the 
shereef  of  Mecca.  He  is  almost  superior  to  the 
Sultan.  He  has  charge  of  the  mausoleum  of  Mo- 
hammed and  of  the  sacred  tombs. 

"Have  you,"  asks  the  Effendi,  "tribunals  in 
America  who  execute  contracts,  compel  honesty, 
collect  debts,  and  are  they  unbribeable  ? "  This 
is  the  question  of  a  successful  man  of  business, 
and  I  make  such  answer  as  our  chief  judges  would 
have  sanctioned.  I  am  asked  to  send  a  letter 
from  America  to  the  Effendi  to  let  him  know  if 
we  reach  home  in  safety.  Then  I  am  tendered  a 
smoke  from  the  narghile  of  the  Effendi  hiiriself. 
It  is  a  special  honor.  He  had  ordered  the  servant 
to  bring  in  his  long,  serpentine  "  hubble-bubble," 
with  a  live  coal  upon  the  tobacco.  Its  fumes,  bub- 
bling through  the  cool  water,  enrapture  my  senses. 
It  takes  me  some  time  to  raise  a  little  smoke. 
The  Effendi  shows  how  to  take  the  long,  deep  pull, 
which  produces  the  result,  after  the  method  of  the 
Orient. 

The  rest  of  the  house  is  opened  for  our  in- 
spection. We  ascend  to  the  upper  chambers, 
passing  through  the  court  of  fountains  into  the 
synagogue.  This  is  most  interesting  and  curious, 
though  plain.  A  reading-stand  is  in  the  centre ; 


266  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

a  thousand  volumes  in  Arabic,  Hebrew,  etc.,  are 
upon  the  shelves.  The  walls  are  lined  with  en- 
gravings, in  nearly  all  of  which  the  seven  candle- 
sticks appear.  They  are  symbolic  of  light.  Other 
representations  of  the  ceremonies  and  elements  of 
the  religion  of  the  household  are  about  the  sacred 
place.  In  a  decorated  desk  are  the  books  of  the 
Bible,  written  in  silver  on  gazelle  parchments.  A 
picture  of  Moses,  writing  the  Ten  Commandments, 
hangs  above  them.  At  every  one  of  the  score  of 
doors  we  find  nailed  to  the  doorpost  a  silver  box, 
containing  the  Ten  Commandments,  with  some  of 
the  Hebrew  letters  apparent.  A  hundred  other 
significant  matters  belonging  to  the  law  and  to  the 
prophets  are  here,  but  have  now  escaped  my  poor 
pen. 

One  thing  remains  to  be  said,  prompted  by  the 
seven  candlesticks.  No  amount  of  intolerance 
or  detraction  can  dusk  the  luminous  glory  of  He- 
brew light.  When  that  is  obscured,  religion,  all 
religions,  go  out,  in  chaos.  Dusk  this  radiance  ? 
In  the  language  of  Lamartine  :  "  All  the  prevail- 
ing forms  of  worship  have  sprung  from  these  soli- 
tudes, from  the  Star-deity  who  governs  the  worlds 
of  Zoroaster,  to  the  Allah  of  Mohammed  ;  from  the 
legislative  Jehovah  of  Moses,  (to  the  True  Word 
sought  for  amidst  the  obscurity  of  night  by  the 
shepherds  of  Bethlehem."  May  I  not  add,  that 
out  of  the  Hebrew  Jehovah  came  all  that  we  have 
of  faith  and  devotion  which  takes  hold  on  the  in- 
visible world  beyond  ? 

True,  there  are  but  six  millions  one  hundred 
thousand  Jews  in  the  world.  Of  this  number  five 
millions  live  in  Europe,  one  hundred  and  eighty 
thousand  in  Asia,  four  hundred  thousand  in  Africa, 


LIFE  IN  DAMASCUS. 


267 


three  hundred  thousand  in  America,  and  two  hun- 
dred thousand  in  Australia.  But  their  influence  is 
not  measured  by  population.  Their  thought  per- 
meates. It  is  eternal. 

We  ascend  to  the  roof  of  the  house.  It  is 
arranged  for  safety  and  observation.  From  it,  as 
the  soft  light  of  the  evening  is  drawing  its  mellow 
curtain  about  the  brown  bare  mountains  of  the  city, 
we  see  rising  in  supernal  majesty  the  three  peaks 
of  Hermon,  dominating  the  Lebanon  range  ! 

Beyond  its  limits  is  the  land  of  Israel ;  beyond, 
even  from  "  Hermon  in  the  north,  unto  Tabor  in 
the  south,"  lies  the  home  of  the  prophets  and  kings 
— -the  now  unhappy  land,  once  made  so  glorious  by 
such  lawgivers  as  Moses  ;  such  prophets  as  Elijah  ; 
such  singers  as  David,  and  such  sages  as  Solomon. 

Descending  to  the  court  we  are  met  by  the  ladies 
of  the  house,  who  give  us  greeting ;  and  all  give  us 
a  final  farewell.  An  oriental  salutation  is  express- 
ive and  graceful.  The  hands  do  not  touch,  but 
come  nearly  together,  and  are  then  raised  to  lip, 
head,  and  heart,  signifying  that  by  word  and  thought 
and  feeling  you  are  most  tenderly  regarded. 

We  went  from  that  house  with  the  impression  of 
human  brotherhood  intensified,  and  the  determi- 
nation to  do  more  for  the  eradication  of  that  insa- 
tiate malice  against  this  chosen  race,  from  which 
our  own  boasted  country,  with  its  liberal  canons  of 
soul  freedom,  is  not  entirely  exempt. 

When  evening  came  I  summoned  the  dragoman 
for  a  stroll  among  the  water-courses  and  gardens 
along  the  Barada,  where  the  green  Merj,  honored 
in  the  Arabian  Nights,  displays  its  beauty  to  the 
new  crescent  moon. 

It  was  a  sweet  and   pensive   evening,  fitted  to 


268  FROM  POLE    TO    P  YRAMID. 

make  one  think  of  dear  friends  at  home,  and  the 
sadness  which  afflicts  my  country  in  its  hours  of 
bereavement  and  sorrow.  I  am  not  one  of  those 
who  are  ashamed  to  confess  that  the  teachings  of 
nature  not  only  lead  me  to  love  my  friends  and  my 
country,  but  in  a  larger  sense  to  love  the  Primal 
Loving  Cause  of  all  our  blessings.  Nothing  so 
binds  me  in  "willing  fetters  "  as  the  silver  meshes 
of  a  brook,  and  these  seven  rivers  of  Damascus  pro- 
duce a  pleasing  acquiescence,  to  which  the  beauti- 
ful moon  adds  its  fascination.  There  was  a  song 
in  the  groves  of  tall  poplars  and  cypresses,  like 
music  heard  in  dreams.  Besides,  there  were  old 
plane-trees,  whose  branches  have  listened  to  many 
a  story  of  the  good  Caliph's  time.  They  spread 
their  great  arms  in  gestures  of  Eastern  welcome 
while  giving  their  venerable  aspect  to  the  mellow 
light  and  reflecting  their  shadows  in  the  pleasant 
waters.  We  enter  a  garden  where,  along  with  the 
murmur  of  fountains,  we  hear  the  tinkle  of  the 
guitar  and  the  thrumming  of  the  tambourine. 

The  story-teller  is  illustrating  some  of  the  Ara- 
bian proverbs.  He  is  telling  the  tale  of  a  shoe- 
maker whose  name  is  Honein.  An  Arab  came  to 
purchase  a  pair  of  shoes  at  his  shop.  The  usual 
bargaining  began,  the  cobbler  asking  twice  the 
proper  price,  and  the  Bedouin  offering  half ;  the  son 
of  the  desert  is  impatient.  Before  the  proper  mean 
had  been  arrived  at,  he  gave  up  the  game  of  haggling. 
Honein  thereupon  resolves  upon  revenge,  and  hur- 
rying forward  upon  the  road  where  he  knew  the 
Arab  would  have  to  pass,  he  throws  down  one  of 
the  shoes.  Presently  the  Arab  comes  past,  and 
seeing  the  shoe  says  to  himself,  "  How  like  this  is 
to  one  of  Honein's  shoes  !  If  the  other  were  but 


LIFE  IN  DAMASCUS. 


269 


with  it,  I  would  take  them."  Honein  had  mean- 
while gone  on  further  still,  and  thrown  down  the 
other  shoe,  hiding  himself  close  by  to  enjoy  the 
fun.  When  the  Arab  came  to  the  second  shoe,  he 
regretted  having  left  the  first ;  but,  tying  up  his 
camel,  he  went  back  to  fetch  it.  Honein  at  once 
mounted  and  rode  off  home,  well  satisfied  with  the  l 
exchange  of  a  camel  for  a  pair  of  shoes.  When 
the  Arab  returned  on  foot  to  his  tribe,  and  they 
asked  him  what  he  had  brought  home  from  his 
journey,  he  replied,  "  I  have  brought  back  nothing 
but  Honein's  shoes."  This  is  a  common  Arabian 
saying,  and  is  proverbial  for  a  bootless  errand. 

After  the  story  came  songs.  They  remind  me 
of  that  olden  drawling  ditty  of  the  Orient,  heard 
from  Morocco  to  Bagdad.  Seated  under  the  trees 
are  some  hundreds  of  Arabs,  in  every  posture, 
smoking  cigarettes  and  narghiles.  They  are  old 
and  young,  but  all  grave  as  their  tombstones.  We 
order  a  chibouque  and  coffee,  and  listen.  I  ask 
the  dragoman,  "  What  is  the  song  about  ?" 

"  It  is  the  old  love  song,"  he  says.  "  O  heart ! 
why  lovest  thou  so  much  ?  Knowest  thou  not  that 
thy  beloved  will  fade  as  the  roses  ?  Come  to  me, 
beloved,  before  thou  diest !  Heart  of  my  heart ! 
come  and  solace  me  before  the  end  cometh."  This 
was  too  lachrymose  for  our  jocund  spirit ;  so  we 
ask  : 

"  Cannot  you  get  up  a  jolly  song,  and  make 
these  solemn  faces  smile  ?  " 

No  one  smiles  in  this  strange  country.  The 
dogs  even  partake  of  .the  general  gravity.  The 
way  they  howl,  even  before  hurt,  is  a  sample  of 
the  melancholy  characteristic  of  all.  Men — big 
men — burst  into  tears  on  the  least  occasion.  They 


270 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


are  tender  and  simple-hearted.  I  should  infer, 
therefore,  as  humor  and  pathos  are  akin,  that  they 
would  be  pervious  to  mirth  ;  and  at  this  festive  place 
I  became  anxious  to  know  what  resource  this  land 
has  for  any  vent  and  vein  of  humor.  The  guide 
tempts  the  band  with  a  silver  mejideah  (a  dollar), 
and  the  band  strikes  up  a  roundelay,  which  was 
only  a  quicker  variation  of  the  same  lyrical  drawl. 
This  music  had  words  a  little  more  sprightly. 

I  ask  what  they  purport.  "  Oh,  it  is  a  song  of 
a  love-sick  boy  for  a  passionate  girl,  and  the  girl's 
anxiety  to  see  the  boy."  A  few  old  Arabs  make  a 
hilarious  grunt  at  some  of  the  verses,  and  some 
young  men  look  at  me  askant  with  a  curious  smile. 
It  was  a  song  not  at  all  fitted  for  ears  polite,  as  I 
surmised  ;  but,  not  understanding  Arabic,  I  stood 
the  embarrassment.  The  truth  is,  this  Arab  music 
has  an  Offenbach  immoral  twang,  and  much  of  his 
sweetness  and  characteristics  in  certain  tones ;  but 
it  is  incapable  of  notation  on  account  of  its  short 
or  quarter  notes  and  its  irregularity  and  capricious- 
ness.  I  have  had  enough  of  it.  I  prefer  the 
sweet  solace  of  the  bray  of  the  meek  and  misera- 
ble donkey  to  this  "damnable  iteration"  of  bar- 
baric wailing. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

ON   TO    THE  HOLY   CITY  !—  JAFFA  —  LATRONE  — RAMLEH— 
JERUSALEM. 

He  who,  from  zone  to  zone, 

Guides  through  the  botindless  sky  thy  certain  flight, 

In  the  long  way  that  I  imist  tread  alone, 

Will  lead  my  steps  aright. — BRYANT. 

AMONG  the  many  anxieties  of  this  Eastern 
travel  we  encountered  two  which  thus  far 
have  not  been  realized.  When  we  left  Constanti- 
nople there  was  notice  given  by  foreign  consuls 
that  the  cholera  was  at  Aden,  on  the  Red  Sea,  and 
that  quarantine  would  be  established.  As  the  time 
of  pilgrimage  to  Mecca  and  Jerusalem  was  near,  it 
was  to  be  expected  that  the  disease  would  be  dis- 
seminated. The  precautions  against  it  were  made 
drastic  by  the  Turkish  Government.  An  oriental 
quarantine  in  1851  prevented  our  going  to  Jerusa- 
lem at  that  time,  as  then  the  literal  meaning  of 
the  words,  forty  days,  was  the  extent  of  the  horrible 
lazaretto  imprisonment,  and  such  an  imprisonment 
was  not  to  be  endured.  When,  therefore,  we  reached 
the  ports  of  Syria  and  Judea,  it  was  pleasant  to 
know  that  the  quarantine  would  only  operate  on 
vessels  coming  from  the  hot  South,  although  it  was 
not  sure  that  going  west  from  Egypt  we  would  not 
fall  into  its  clutch.  The  other  anxiety  connects 
itself  with  the  state  of  the  Mediterranean.  It  is 
in  the  fall,  at  best,  an  uncertain  sea.  We  read  the 

271 


272 


FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 


io7th  Psalm,  and  thought  how  the  sea  looked  to 
the  psalmist  from  the  Judean  heights,  and  to  one 
who  had  gone  "  down  to  the  sea  in  ships,  and  who 
did  business  in  great  waters."  Had  he  not  seen 
the  works  of  the  Lord  and  his  wonders  in  the  deep  ? 
"  For  he  commandeth,  and  raiseth  the  stormy  wind, 
which  lifteth  up  the  waves  thereof.  They  mount 
up  to  the  heaven,  they  go  down  again  to  the  depths  : 
their  soul  is  melted  because  of  trouble.  They  reel 
to  and  fro,  and  stagger  like  a  drunken  man,  and  are 
at  their  wit's  end.  He  maketh  the  storm  a  calm, 
so  that  the  waves  thereof  are  still.  Then  they  are 
glad  because  they  be  quiet;  so  He  bringeth  them 
unto  their  desired  haven." 

It  is  no  ordinary  thankfulness,  therefore,  that  we 
feel  when  we  reach  the  haven  which  was,  and  is, 
the  vestibule  on  the  sea,  leading  us  to  the  temple 
and  city  of  our  hope — Jerusalem  !  Indeed,  we  are 
thankful  for  a  smooth  sea  ever  since  we  left  Odessa. 
In  traveling  about  the  Syrian  coasts  such  serenity 
is  indispensable,  not  merely  for  comfort,  but  for 
landing.  The  roadsteads  are  generally  open,  and 
when  there  is  a  harbor  it  is  artificial.  Jaffa  does 
not  boast  of  a  harbor,  and,  unless  the  weather  be 
calm,  the  landing  is  either  dangerous  or  it  is  post- 
poned for  the  return  trip  from  Egypt.  How  many 
touring  "  souls  have  been  melted  "  because  of  this 
trouble  ?  We  had  tranquil  weather  and  landed 
without  a  spray  upon  our  garments,  though  carried 
ashore  by  sailors.  Then  we  are  ushered  through 
the  narrow  and  noisy  thoroughfares  of  Jaffa,  out 
among  the  gardens,  where  the  Jerusalem  Hotel  is 
kept  by  the  American  Consul.  A  hurried  break- 
fast and  a  short  rest,  and  our  dragoman,  Mr.  Floyd, 
who  had  come  with  us  from  Beirut,  is  upon  his 


ON   TO    THE  HOLY  CITY. 


273 


Arab   steed,  and  we  are  in  a  small  vehicle  on  our 
route  to  the  holy  city. 

There  is  not  much  of  interest  to  be  observed  in 
Jaffa.  Like  most  of  these  cities  of  the  coast,  it  is 
built  upon  the  debris  of  the  furrowed  mountains, 
which  the  winter  rains  bring  down  with  their 
waters,  for  irrigation  and  vegetation.  It  rejoices 
in  a  fruitfulness  which  is  partly  concealed  by  the 
enormous  cactus  hedges  ;  but  here  and  there  splen- 
did orchards  of  orange  and  lemon  and  other  fruits 
show  their  dusty  foliage,  cypresses  and  palms  rise 
like  verdurous  minarets  above  the  scene !  The 
harbor  facilities  are  in  contrast  with  the  suburbs  ; 
the  former  are  as  meagre  and  mean  as  the  latter  are 
luxuriant  and  delightful.  The  former  are  cluttered 
up  with  bales  of  goods,  and  camels,  mules,  and 
Arabs,  and  the  bustle  and  business  give  no  idea  of 
the  sylvan  repose  within  the  hedges  and  walls  with- 
out the  town.  From  the  sea  the  town  looks  like  a 
pretty  picture  of  stone  houses,  here  and  there 
embowered  in  stately  trees,  but  it  gives  no  idea  of 
the  squalor  of  the  people  and  crookedness  of  the 
streets.  Where  "'Simon  the  tanner "  once  lived 
there  is  considerable  improvement  going  on.  There 
is  here  a  German  colony  of  great  prosperity.  It  is 
a  significant  and  sure  sign  of  advancement.  Besides, 
the  locality  shows  that  the  traditional  permanency 
of  the  tanner,  at  which  Shakespeare  hints,  applies 
to  the  tanneries,  for  in  this  vicinage  the  business  is 
still  carried  on  as  it  was  in  the  apostolic  times. 
There  is  much  tradition  about  Jaffa,  and  some 
Biblical  history.  Being  the  port  of  Jerusalem, 
timber  for  the  temple  came  hither  from  Lebanon. 
From  here  Jonah  fled.  Here  Tabitha  was  raised 
by  St.  Peter.  Here,  on  the  house  of  Simon,  the 


274 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


apostle  saw  in  a  vision  the  grand  object  and  future 
of  that  kingdom  of  which  he  held  the  key,  and  which 
was  fitly  named  after  that  rock,  which — if  it  be  not 
a  solecism — is  as  gentle  as  the  plumes  of  the  palm 
to  the  zephyr,  but  which,  unyielding  as  granite,  re- 
sists the  approaches  of  time.  What  history  Jaffa 
had  under  Roman,  Crusader,  Arab,  Mameluke, 
and  Frank,  is  easily  remembered  by  those  who  have 
read  or  written  the  itineracy  to  Jerusalem. 

But  these  are  matters  of  the  dead  past.  It  is  of 
more  present  interest  to  observe,  as  we  did,  the 
procession  of  fine-eyed,  healthy  Jewish  children, 
who  are  out  of  their  school  for  a  holiday  in  the 
country.  This  indicates,  as  is  indeed  the  fact,  that 
benevolent  Hebrews  in  other  lands  are  raising  up 
and  training  a  new  generation  to  instruct,  refine, 
and  elevate  the  coming  youth  of  their  race,  who  are 
thrown  by  persecution  or  poverty  upon  this  their 
olden  land. 

Many  curiosities  are  pointed  out  by  the  way. 
Yonder  is  a  tree  whose  name  we  inquire. 

"  That,"  says  the  guide,  "  is  the  tree  that  bears 
the  husks  upon  which  the  prodigal  fed." 

At  every  turn  some  natural  object,  with  a  Scrip- 
tural bearing,  attracts  the  eye  and  memory. 

We  perceive  on  the  road  and  in  the  suburbs 
sugar-cane  for  sale.  It  is  cut  in  sections,  and  seems 
to  be  an  article  of  food.  We  notice  that  the  young 
Arabs  take  to  it.  They  chew  it  just  as  the  little 
negroes  on  the  quay  at  New  Orleans  do,  and  in  a 
style  which  they  learned,  unconsciously,  from  the 
monkey !  Their  plan,  quadrumanous  and  otherwise, 
is  to  fill  their  mouth  with  the  saccharine  juice,  sup- 
plied by  a  bounteous  flux  of  the  salivary  gland,  and 
then,  when  the  mouth  is  brimful,  to  tip  back  the 


ON   TO    THE  HOLY  CITY. 


275 


head  and  roll  the  cataract  of  sweetness  down  below 
the  epiglottis  into  the  regions  where  the  diaphragm 
holds  high,  hilarious  carnival  over  the  festive  scene. 
We  pass  many  camels,  laden  with  rags — rags  for 
the  paper-mills  of  Europe.  These  rags  are  media 
for  sending  out  the  plagues  of  the  East,  and  there 
used  to  be  stringent  measures  against  their  intro- 
duction into  Western  communities.  Although  the 
business  is  not  as  thriving  as  formerly,  still  it  seems 
lively ;  but  whether  or  not  it  lessens  the  bulk  and 
number  of  oriental  rags  we  cannot  determine,  as 
the  ragamuffins  seem  to  be  as  numerous  in  Judea 
as  in  Asia  Minor. 

We  divide  our  journey  to  Jerusalem  between 
two  days,  and  rest  over  night  at  Latrone,  and  not, 
as  is  usual,  at  Ramleh.  We  are  not  frightened  by 
stories  of  lepers  at  the  last-named  place  ;  but  our 
guide,  who  is  the  best  in  Judea,  knows  where  and 
when  to  put  us  snugly  away  for  the  night,  so  as  to 
refresh  us  for  our  entry  into  the  holy;city.  It  did 
not  take  us  a  half  hour  to  get  outside  the  sweet 
breath  of  the  orange  orchards,  and  into  the  wide, 
tawny  plains  of  Sharon  and  the  hardy  region  of  the 
olive.  Of  course,  in  the  fall,  the  fields  look  arid, 
brown,  burned,  and  bare ;  but  in  the  rainy  winter 
and  spring  they  are  green  and  fair.  The  old 
maritime  plain  of  the  Philistine,  which  is  another 
name  for  Palestine,  lies  along  this  coast,  from  Gaza 
northward,  and  it  was  considered  a  land  worth 
struggles.  This  Joshua  found.  But  in  vain  do  we 
look  for  the  "roses  of  Sharon  and  the  lilies  that 
grow"  in  this  land,  so  renowned  once  for  its  floral 
beauty.  Still,  we  are  told  that  in  the  vernal  season 
it  is  carpeted,  like  a  Texas  prairie,  with  flowers  of 
various  hue  and  loveliness.  Along  the  dusty  after- 


276  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

noon  road  we  pass  innumerable  caravans  of  camels, 
led  by  Arabs  on  donkeys.  The  Arab  generally  sits 
on  the  remote  point  of  the  os  coccygis  of  the  animal, 
and  without  stirrups.  He  swings  his  bare  brown 
feet  and  legs,  while  the  little  beast,  like  lulus  along- 
side of  his  father,  trots  inequo  pede.  Plenty  of 
1  women,  with  faces  here  apparent,  and  in  long,  blue, 
cheap  cotton  mantles,  and  sometimes  with  head 
crowned  with  burdens  of  fruit,  pitchers,  straw,  or 
wood,  are  met  in  the  way.  Some  ruins,  mostly  of 
churches,  here  and  there  appear ;  while  square,  win- 
dowless,  Turkish  guard-houses  are  seen  at  intervals, 
at  whose  doors  are  the  white-dressed,  fez-capped 
Turkish  soldiers,  with  guns  and  cigarettes.  These 
are  the  police,  who  are  supposed  to  guard  the  road ; 
but  to  our  observation  no  guard  is  needed,  except 
in  the  dark  mountain  passes,  and  there  Turkish 
engineering  has  been  careful  to  have  as  few  guard- 
houses as  possible ! 

Latrone  is  only  three  miles  from  the  famous  val- 
ley where  Joshua  pursued  his  enemy.  As  we  ap- 
proach it,  the  moon  throws  its  light  and  shadows 
upon  the  foot-hills  and  valleys,  and  we  cannot 
clearly  discern,  except  under  its  veil  of  witchery, 
the  olive  groves  and  cactus  hedges,  and  wild 
scenery,  which  should  show  signs  of  the  fruitful 
water  and  soil.  From  the  balcony  of  our  hotel  at 
Latrone  we  take  a  survey  of  the  leads  of  lunar  sil- 
ver, amid  the  enchanted  rocks  and  hills.  We  for- 
get, under  its  magical  sheen,  that  it  is  named  after  a 
thief ;  but  was  he  not  the  good  thief  ?  and  has  not 
his  "  penitence  "  removed  from  his  supposed  birth- 
place the  stigma  of  stealing  ?  This  place  has  fur- 
ther and  less  dubious  significance.  It  is  only  a 
mile  from  the  Castle  Emmaus,  which  the  Crusaders 


ON  TO    THE  ffOL  Y  CITY. 


277 


built  to  command  the  pass  to  the  Holy  City.  All 
about  us  here  are  the  historic  spots  of  the  heroic 
Maccabees.  In  one  word,  it  is  the  fighting-ground 
and  the  highway  to  Jerusalem. 

There  is  not  much  to  see  on  the  road  until  you 
come  to  Ramleh.  Beggars  and  backsheesh,  and 
some  old  relics  as  crusading  reminders  are  here, 
and  one  very  conspicuous  object.  The  latter  is 
a  square  tower,  with  a  winding  staircase.  It  is  off 
the  road,  and  has  a  fine  view  of  the  surrounding 
country.  It  is  over  one  thousand  years  old,  and  has 
many  Moslem  associations.  Ramleh  has  been  the 
scene  of  much  contest.  Indeed,  every  little  spot  here 
in  Judea  is  full  of  memories,  from  the  time  Israel 
came  down  from  the  Moab  mountains  into  the  Jor- 
dan valley.  The  road  is  not  to  be  mentioned  for 
its  convenience  and  perfection  ;  only  for  its  his- 
toric, religious,  and  aesthetic  interest.  It  was  built 
in  1869,  by  forced  labor,  and  indeed  its  rough  and 
stony  incompleteness  looks  like  anything  but  the 
result  of  cheerful  work.  It  is  supported  by  tolls, 
so  much  per  head,  on  every  animal  on  the  road. 
One  should  not  complain  of  the  road  when  it  is 
remembered  that  before  1869  there  was  not  a 
bridle-path  to  Jerusalem.  It  is  said  that  the  Sul- 
tan promised  the  Empress  Eugenie  to  build  a  road 
to  Jerusalem  if  she  would  come  that  way ;  and  this 
royal  courtesy  is  the  origin  of  the  road. 

Before  we  reach  our  destination  for  the  night, 
and  before  the  tower  of  Ramleh  is  lost  in  the 
distance,  the  moon  comes  out  and  hangs  her  silver 
lamp  over  the  valley  of  Ajalon,  which  we  were 
nearing ;  but  it  did  not  stand  still  any  more  than 
we  did.  The  sun  had  already  gone  down  to  rest 
to  "bait  his  steeds"  under  the  blue  waves,  and 


278  FROM  POLE    TO   PYRAMID. 

we  had  no  occasion  or  expectation  of  any  marvel. 
Ours  were  peaceful  purposes.  Not  an  Amorite 
was  to  be  seen  ;  but  some  Russian  pilgrims  from  the 
regions  of  the  north  were  bent  upon  improving  the 
silver  light,  and,  along  with  numerous  native  pil- 
grims, trains,  rnd  footmen,  were  struggling  to  reach 
the  cooler  air  of  the  mountain  passes  before  the 
heats  of  the  morning. 

One  excitement  we  found  on  the  way  not  to 
be  forgotten.  "  A  jackal  !  See  !  "  exclaims  our 
guide,  as  in  the  light  the  animal  creeps  stealthily 
across  the  road.  It  makes  good  a  retreat,  in  spite 
of  the  revolver.  As  it  is  said  to  keep  company 
with  the  king  of  beasts,  we  felt  better  when  it 
left. 

Occasionally  we  saw  the  vine  trailing  from  the 
fig-tree,  both  hanging  plentifully  with  fruit,  so  that 
the  Scriptural  repose  can  be  had  under  both  and 
at  once.  Our  repose,  however,  was  under  a  sub- 
stantial roof.  It  was  undisturbed,  save  only  by  one 
incident.  When  we  retire  a  scream  is  heard.  It 
is  from  the  moon-lit  chamber.  My  wife  is  there  ! 
Good  gracious  !  has  she  discovered  another  jackal  ? 
Ah  !  no.  It  is  but  the  gentlest  of  lizards,  which 
hovers  in  glistening  beauty  over  her  head,  upon  the 
ceiling.  Before  sleep  is  possible  we  marshal  the 
household,  and,  armed  with  brooms  and  umbrellas, 
we  succeed,  like  another  St.  George,  in  destroying 
the  dragon,  and  thus  allay  the  nervous  intensity  of 
our  guardian  angel. 

To  the  distant  and  pious  reader  everything  tend- 
ing toward  Jerusalem  is  interesting,  and,  therefore, 
it  is  not  frivolous  to  say  that  our  driver  was  a  French- 
M'oman.  Her  sex,  owing  to  the  mode  of  dressing 
here,  we  never  suspected  until  we  began  our  sec- 


ON   TO    THE    HOLY  CITY.  2?9 

ond  day's  journey,  when  we  found  her  on  the  box, 
coaxing  rather  than  lashing  her  team. 

Our  Baggage  is  tied  fast,  and  our  equestrian  guide 
is  on  his  prancing  barb.  It  is  daylight,  and  the  ex- 
hilaration of  the  bracing  dawn  is  enhanced  by  the 
near  prospect  of  the  approach  to  the  city  of  our 
hopes.  But  no  pen  can  describe  the  beauty  of  the 
morning.  On  a  spur  of  the  mountain — bathed  in 
the  roseate  beauty  which  we  looked  for  in  vain  in 
the  vale  of  Sharon — is  a  little  village  of  square  stone 
houses.  It  was  not  because  the  "Lion-hearted" 
Crusader  encamped  here  seven  hundred  years  ago  ; 
it  was  not  because  the  mountains  of  Judah  began  to 
quiver  with  all  the  arrows  of  Apollo  under  the  pink 
aurora;  nor  because  each  gray,  rocky  mountain 
became,  under  its  effluence,  a  picture — or  a  statue, 
rather — forever  indurated  in  the  mind.  But  it  was 
because  through  yonder  winding  glens,  holy  men  of 
God,  with  the  grandest  thought  and  emotion,  passed 
upward  to  the  city  of  our  hope  !  Up,  up,  still  up, 
winding  under  the  gleaming  glare  of  the  once-ter- 
raced elevations,  through  defiles  that  would  not  be 
so  comfortable  after  nightfall  for  lonely  travelers, 
we  pursue  our  morning  drive.  At  length  we  reach 
a  point  of  vantage,  and  cast  our  eyes  to  the  west. 
The  blue  sea  is  there  in  measureless  content.  It  is 
thirty  miles  away,  and  the  light  falls  on  its  bosom, 
evoking  the  subtle  minstrelsy.  This  sings  of  hopes 
long  deferred.  Shall  these  hopes  be  disappointed  ? 
Our  guide,  ever  vigilant,  and  with  chapter  and  verse 
for  each  spot,  curvets  upon  his  steed  about  our  car- 
riage. What  are  the  rocky  caves  and  glens,  and  the 
high  terraced  slopes — terraced  by  regular  and  nat- 
ural limestone  ranges,  and  once  terraced  artificially 
and  usefully,  by  man,  with  vine,  olive,  pomegranate, 


280  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

and  fig  ?  What  are  the  gray,  sombre  rocks,  tinged 
ruddy  with  iron  ?  What  the  pretty  intervales,  full  of 
the  old,  twisted  olives,  whose  trunks  are  full  of  hol- 
lows and  holes,  as  if  riddled  and  stormed  by  the 
ages  ?  What  the  lively  little  lizards,  shimmering 
as  they  run  into  crevices  over  dusty  rocks  ?  What 
the  blanched  beauty  of  those  desolated  and  bleak 
mountains,  covered  with  prickly  scrub-oak  and 
shrubs  of  ilex?  What  the  '*' animated  nature,"  in 
the  shape  of  the  lop-eared  pied  goats,  mixed  with  the 
large-tailed  sheep  and  the  donkeys  and  mules,  cam- 
els, cattle,  and  Arabs,  as  they  pass,  heavily  laden, 
desertward  ?  What  the  lonely  low  houses,  made  of 
dried  mud,  stuck  about  the  acclivities  and  in  the 
glens  ?  What  the  castles  which  top  the  topmost 
heights,  and  the  stories  of  sheiks,  like  Aber  Ghaush, 
who  once  commanded  and  robbed  from  them?  What 
the  succulent  grapes  which  old  Kirjath-jearim  fur- 
nishes for  our  dusty  throats,  and  the  strange  sight 
of  a  Gothic  minster  in  ruins  in  this  land  of  the 
Gibeonites,  this  boundary  between  Judah  and  Ben- 
jamin ?  What  all  these  ?  Are  we  not  approaching 
the  city  of  our  hope  ?  Did  not  the  ark  of  the  cov- 
enant rest  on  yonder  hill,  in  the  house  of  Abinadab? 
WTas  it  not  borne  hence  to  Jerusalem  by  King 
David,  out  of  whose  loins  came  those  simple  yet 
grand  teachers  and  descendants,  whose  marvels  of 
morality  and  miracles  of  heaven  have  moved  man- 
kind ?  Roman  roads  are  here,  and  old  pavements, 
and  arches  still  spring  buoyantly  over  dry  torrent- 
beds.  These  are  remnants  of  that  Roman  power 
which  worshiped  no  god  Terminus  ;  but  these  are 
of  mere  passing  interest ;  for  yonder,  upon  our 
right,  do  we  not  look  upon  the  birthplace  of  John 
the  Baptist,  in  the  "hilly  country  of  Judea?" 


ON    TO    THE  HOLY  CITY. 


All  around  are  signal  and  lofty  points,  gesturing 
heavenward,  and  associated  forever  with  the  great- 
est names  of  the  Hebrews  —  Samuel  the  Judge  and 
David  the  King  —  and  all  pointing  to  the  city  of  our 
long-deferred  hope.  As  we  look  to  the  south  and 
north,  and  through  zigzags  and  glens  —  birth  and 
burial  places,  fighting  and  praying  ground  of  sol- 
dier and  king,  prophet  and  saint,  command  atten- 
tion ;  while  to  the  west  we  bid  farewell  to  the 
azure  sea,  whose  line  is  now  marked  by  a  long, 
steadfast  range  of  white  clouds  above,  but  parallel 
with,  its  horizon.  We  prepare  for  the  descent. 
Still  more  windings  by  the  way,  and  more  quota- 
tions from  Samuel,  the  Judges,  and  the  Acts  raki 
in  upon  us  from  our  Biblical  genius  upon  the  barb. 
These  sacred  memories  have  a  sort  of  sudden  con- 
firmation by  the  instantaneous  appearance  of  a 
venerable  graybeard  in  gown  of  religious  foldings. 
He  has  a  grand  escort.  He  turns  around  one  of 
the  zigzags  as  we  turn  down,  and  lo  !  the  dignified 
form  of  the  Coptic  Bishop  of  Judea,  upon  a  white 
mule  !  His  attendants  also  appear,  one  bearing 
his  silver-mounted  stick,  the  mace  of  his  author- 
ity. This  vision  appears  as  suddenly  as  if  it  had 
emerged  from  one  of  the  many  caves  which  shadow 
our  pathway.  It  is  as  if  Elijah  had  come  forth 
out  of  the  heart  of  Carmel.  Our  salutations  are 
reverently  made  ;  and  we  drive  with  fresh  impa- 
tience over  a  rolling  plateau,  at  the  top  of  the 
mountains,  which  begin  to  tell  us  that  we  are  near 
the  city  of  our  hope  ! 

The  road  grows  more  populous  with  beasts  of 
burden.  Arab  women  with  blue  tattoo  upon  their 
ugly  faces,  and  dignified  Arabs  in  their  togas  of 
striped  brown  and  dirty  white,  come  and  go.  The 


282  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

fruit-trees  we  perceive  seem  to  add  to  the  loneli- 
ness of  the  land.  There  are  few  houses  in  sight. 
We  wonder  who  does  the  work  here.  The  truth  is, 
the  ground  is  hardly  scratched  for  the  grain  ;  and 
the  grain  is  neglected  till  the  sparse  harvest-time 
comes.  The  terraces  show  more  cultivation.  The 
cactus  again  appears  to  shelter  the  gardens.  Bas- 
kets of  fruit,  under  green  leaves,  decorate  the  heads 
of  the  pedestrian  women  and  load  the  dusty  don- 
keys ;  and  we  rest,  in  disillusion  and  impatience, 
in  front  of  a  Greek  restaurant,  whose  sign  of 
"  liquors  and  billiards  "  would  disturb  the  oriental 
vision  but  for  the  sweet  blush  of  the  pomegran- 
ates out  of  the  orchards,  which  give  their  tints 
to  the  rich  garniture  of  the  gardens.  We  under- 
stand from  our  guide,  not  that  David  was  anointed 
or  that  Joshua  fought  here,  but  that  General 
Grant  here  lunched  in  a  snow-storm  in  February  ! 
A  few  lazy  folk  in  baggy  trousers  are  about  to  help 
our  French  female  driver  water  the  horses,  while 
the  unseen  proprietor  is  making  wine  in  his  cellar, 
unconscious  of  our  sacred  anxieties.  A  cup  of 
coffee  and  a  fresh  start,  and  only  five  miles  to  the 
city  of  our  hope  ! 

There  is  little  time  now  to  listen  to  scriptural 
texts  as  to  prominent  localities.  Rags,  refugees, 
and  Russians,  men  of  one  religion  or  another,  and 
of  all  qualities  and  costumes,  are  mixed  up  hete- 
rogeneously  upon  the  thronged  road,  along  with 
goats,  sheep,  camels,  and  donkeys.  Water-carriers, 
bearing  their  sweating  goat-skins,  are  trudging  into 
the  city  precincts  ;  but  this  only  signifies  a  denser 
population.  We  perceive  the  Convent  of  the 
Holy  Cross,  a  conspicuous  object,  and  the  new 
Jesuit  college,  and  an  orphan  asylum.  We  quicken 


ON   TO    THE  HOLY  CITY.  283 

our  pace.  Then  the  suburbs — long  blocks  of  Jew- 
ish houses,  newly  built,  outside  still  of  the  city- 
appear  ;  but  these  only  serve  to  conceal,  and  not 
to  show  the  view  of  the  city.  Then  the  Russian 
establishment,  within  walls  like  a  fortress,  and  with 
its  splendid  appointments  for  pilgrims  and  sick,  for 
poor  and  rich  ;  and  then  a  town  itself,  still  outside 
the  walls,  from  which  you  catch  glimpses  of  the 
green  slopes  of  the  valley  of  Hinnom,  and  the  old 
dusty  graveyard  and  empty  pool  of  Gihon,  and  the 
ancient  aqueduct ;  and  there,  right  before  us,  the 
far-famed  Jaffa  gate,  with  its  moving  mass  of  peo- 
ple. Then  the  western  walls  of  Jerusalem,  with 
their  old  gray  stones  and  battlements ;  and  far  off, 
shining  and  seething  in  heat  and  light,  and  as  regu- 
lar in  its  sublime  masonry  as  a  wall  built  by  the 
hand  of  man,  full  fifty  miles  away,  is  the  splendid 
range  of  Moab. 

The  shops  and  market,  and  building  going  on 
about  the  Jaffa  gate,  and  the  groups  of  all  nations 
which  take  their  way  to  and  from  it,  or  saunter  and 
jabber  about  it,  do  not  impress  one  with  any  feel- 
ing of  sanctity ;  but  this  one  picture,  nay,  these  two 
pictures,  do.  One  is  this  weird  Moabitish  mountain 
wall  of  the  desert,  far  off  beyond  the  Dead  Sea  and 
the  Jordan !  The  other  is  an  unexpected,  dramatic, 
and  strange  spectacle  in  the  midst  of  the  road.  In 
sight  of  this  holy  city,  on  the  first  view,  we  perceive 
over  a  hundred  pilgrim  priests  and  their  friends — 
all  in  black  apparel — fall  prostrate  in  the  dust !  As 
we  pass  they  chant  their  prayers  and  kiss  the  earth. 
Who  are  they?  Whence  come  they?  They  are 
pilgrims  from  the  far-off  peninsula  of  Spain.  Their 
wives,  sisters,  mothers,  and  parishioners  have  caught 
the  vision  of  the  heavenly  city,  which  their  Saviour 


284  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

made  the  marvel  of  history,  and  they  lie  "  silent  as 
a  nun  in  adoration,"  and  then  arise,  giving  glory, 
before  the  precious  and  hallowed  home  of  the 
Incarnate  Son  of  God! 

If  at  first  we  were  disappointed  at  the  small  size 
and  meagre  aspect  of  the  city,  we  are  beginning 
already  to  wonder  and  worship.  The  very  air,  the 
very  stones,  the  very  dust — and  especially  the  rocks 
— seem  sacred.  Here  is  the  sepulchre,  not  of  a 
nation  merely,  but  of  a  Saviour;  not  of  dead,  buried 
hopes,  but  of  living  and  risen  glories;  not  of  an 
old  and  honored  dispensation  from  Jehovah,  but  of 
a  new  and  potential  Evangel. 

What  wonders,  indeed  !  It  is  said  that  time 
never  works.  It  only  eats  and  consumes,  rots  and 
rusts.  But  it  does  work;  and  such  wonders!  Out 
of  this  little  span  of  Judsean  land,  fifty  by  two  hun- 
dred miles  only,  and  during  the  lapse  of  two  thou- 
sand years — what  wonders  !  Beyond  yonder  hills, 
now  in  our  view,  was  born  in  the  manger  the  God- 
man.  It  is  the  mystery  of  mysteries.  This  has 
worked  these  marvels.  These  solemn,  dark-eyed 
priests  of  Spain,  in  their  reverent  way,  recognize 
the  wonder,  even  as  the  magi  who  came  from  the 
East.  Suppose  this  ground  gave  not  the  most 
beautiful  earthly  vision  of  the  sacred  city  ;  suppose 
the  approach  from  the  Jordan  or  from  Damascus 
would  enhance  more  the  material  attraction — was 
it  not  here  that  the  swelling  hearts  of  the  Cru- 
saders first  beheld  the  city  of  their  hope  and  their 
prowess?  If  they  could  sail  and  march  so  far,  un- 
der helmet  and  mail,  and  all  privation,  to  rescue 
the  holy  sepulchre  from  the  Paynim,  what  wonder 
now  that  these  men  from  the  realm  of  "  Isabella 
the  Catholic,"  who  gave  her  jewels  to  enlarge  the 


ON   TO    THE  HOLY   CITY. 


285 


kingdom  of  Christ  upon  our  planet,  should  fall 
prostrate  before  the  walls  of  that  city  which  con- 
tained the  grave  whence  rose  the  Redeemer !  We 
pondered  much  this  strange  spectacle.  Pilgrims 
from  far-off  America,  whose  geography  was  not 
known  until  the  jewels  of  Spain  found  it — not 
known  when  these  great  transactions  of  salvation 
were  here  enacted — we  could  not  refrain  from 
sympathetic  tears  at  the  prospect  of  a  city  so  hal- 
lowed by  sacrifice,  and  so  sanctified  by  time. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

WEST  WALLS  OF  JERUSALEM— JAFFA  GATE— HEBREW  HIS- 
TORY—JEWS AND   THEIR   WAILING-PLACE   AND   HOPE. 

Unto  which  promise  our  twelve  tribes  instantly  serving  God 
day  and  night,  hope  to  come.  For  which  hope's  sake,  king  Agrippa, 
I  am  accused  of  the^  Jews.  Why  should  it  be  thought  a  thing 
incredible  with  you,  that  God  shottld  raise  the  dead  f — ACTS  xxvi. 
7,8. 

For  the  hope  of  Israel  I  am  bound  with  this  chain. — ACTS  xxviii. 
20. 

WE  were  looking  upon  the  western  wall  of 
Jerusalem.  We  had  approached  the  city, 
as  all  do  who  come  from  the  sea,  and  as  doubtless 
Godfrey  de  Bouillon  and  the  Crusaders  did ;  for 
upon  the  west  side  the  city  is  most  vulnerable.  It 
was  upon  this  side  the  assault  which  succeeded  was 
made.  There  is  not  much  of  a  valley  here,  com- 
pared with  the  east  and  south.  Here,  within  and 
noar  the  Jaffa  gate,  stands  the  citadel.  From  it 
the  red  flag,  with  its  crescent  and  star,  waves.  Near 
by  and  outside  of  this  gate  we  are  lodged.  From 
it  we  have  many  fine  visions.  Twenty  years  ago 
one  could  not  safely  go  outside  the  walls  at  even- 
tide, if  he  were  other  than  a  Moslem.  Now  there 
is  one-third  of  the  population  of  Jerusalem  outside. 
Its  appearance  is  that  of  a  new  town  undergoing 
erection  and  completion.  The  houses  are  of  stone, 
and,  though  low,  are  substantial  and  cool.  In  the 
midst  of  these  novelties  is  situated  Feil's  hostelry. 
Herr  Feil  is  a  German.  He  understands  how  to 

286 


JERUSALEM  AND  HEBREW  HISTORY.  287 

make  pilgrims  who  can  pay,  happy.  Outside  the 
walls  we  were  told  to  lodge.  We  were  well  advised, 
as  the  inside  is  not  as  fragrant  as  Arabic  odors,  nor 
as  roomy  as  the  mountains  "round  about."  Besides, 
outside  we  are  not  so  besieged  ;  we  are  besiegers. 
That  is  an  advantage.  The  city,  like  all  oriental 
cities,  walled  and  buttressed,  looks  more  "  comely  " 
from  the  outside.  But,  from  inside  or  outside,  as 
we  approach  it,  there  is  no  lack  of  activity  and 
population. 

Whatever  Jerusalem  has  been,  after  her  several 
falls  and  frequent  destruction,  she  does  not  now 
"sit  solitary,"  nor  is  she  "a  widow,"  although  she 
that  was  "  great  among  the  nations  and  a  princess 
among  provinces  "  is  certainly  now  "  tributary,"  as 
the  Turkish  crescent  over  the  citadel  doth  testify. 
Jerusalem  is,  alas !  only  one  of  the  places  under 
the  Pashalic  of  Damascus.  How  are  the  mighty 
fallen  ! 

After  our  ablutions  and  lunch,  we  prepared  for  a 
superficial  glance  at  her  bulwarks  and  palaces,  her 
"  compact "  buildings,  and  her  ancient  sites.  From 
our  hotel  window  the  castle  or  citadel  is  in  full 
view ;  but  the  city  is  not  so  high  that  many  of  its 
notable  objects  cannot  be  particularized.  However, 
from  this  view  the  depression  is  apparent  between 
Mount  Zion  and  Mount  Akra.  Upon  the  latter 
are  situated  the  "holy  places,"  including  the  Church 
of  the  Holy  Sepulchre.  We  are  situated  near 
Mount  Akra,  and  still  not  far  from  Mount  Zion. 
Indeed,  distances  are  not  so  magnificent  in  the 
city,  as  at  present  waited  in,  that  any  point  of  in- 
terest is  remote.  Yet  it  is  still  "compacted  to- 
gether/' as  the  Psalmist  said.  From  the  front  bal- 
cony of  our  hotel  the  view  is  not  inspiring.  It 


288  FROM  POLE    TO  P  YRAMID.  t 

comprehends  the  valley  of  Hinnom,  and  its  water- 
less pool  of  Gihon.  On  either  side  of  the  dusty, 
white,  and  rubbly  road,  and  intersected  by  stone 
walls,  little  green  patches  in  the  shape  of  olive- 
trees  are  seen,  and  some  square  houses.  Rocks  are 
everywhere,  showing  their  irregularities  and  caves. 
A  solitary  windmill  on  the  hill,  which  the  Knights 
of  the  Crusade  have  not  harmed,  dominates  the 
landscape  ;  but  its  arms  are  maimed,  and  it  has  no 
welcome  for  the  pleasant  breeze  which  comes  from 
the  west.  Beyond  lie  the  bare  mountains,  whose 
"  strong  rocks  and  fortress  "  so  frequently  appear, 
as  well  on  the  soil  as  in  the  writings  of  the  prophets 
of  Israel.  The  valley  bends  to  the  south-east,  with- 
out much  depth  or  width.  It  is  crossed  by  the 
aqueduct,  which  even  yet,  after  three  thousand 
years,  bears  water  from  the  pools  of  Solomon, 
which  are  beyond  Bethlehem.  That  way  lies  He- 
bron as  well  as  Bethlehem  ;  but  the  prospect  is 
hardly  relieved  of  its  stony  aridity  and  barrenness 
by  the  few  orchards  of  olives.  We  are  tempted  to 
take  up  our  staff  and  explore  this  valley  to  its  out- 
let through  Aceldama,  the  field  of  blood,  into  the 
vale  of  the  dry  brook  Kedron  ;  but  we  are  reminded 
that  Jerusalem,  however  small,  compared  with  Lon- 
don or  New  York,  Damascus  or  Constantinople,  is 
compact  with  interest,  and  cannot  be  done  in  a  prom- 
enade. She  makes  up  in  sacred  places  and  grave 
associations  what  she  lacks  in  immensity,  so  that 
we  prepare  for  steady  and  organized  work  ;  and  be- 
fore we  are  through,  we  shall  thoroughly  go  into, 
through,  and  around  her. 

While  the  donkeys  are  preparing,  I  fulfill  a  prom- 
ise made  to  our  Minister  to  Constantinople,  and 
visit  the  Jaffa  gate.  It  is  but  a  minute's  walk. 


JERUSALEM  AND  HEBREW  HISTORY.  2g9 

Along  the  hot  and  dusty  path  to  it,  the  new  out- 
side city  is  making  progress.  I  perceive  the  Arab 
women  furnishing  the  stone  and  mortar,  from  their 
heads,  to  the  masons  in  baggy  pants  and  turbans, 
who  are  laying  fresh  foundations  and  walls.  One 
curious  thing  strikes  me.  The  ground  is  left  within 
the  rising  walls  of  the  building,  so  as  to  assist, 
without  aid  of  scaffold,  the  making  of  the  arches. 

General  Wallace,  in  his  novel,  "  Ben-Hur — a  tale 
of  the  Christ,"  has  made  a  brief  sketch  of  the  Jaffa 
gate.  He  describes  it,  within  and  without,  as  a 
market  as  well  as  thoroughfare.  This  is  as  it  was 
two  thousand  years  ago.  There  was  then,  accord- 
ing to  all  accounts,  what  now  I  see,  great  traffic 
here.  Traders  came  from  Tyre,  Sidon,  Jaffa, 
Egypt,  Bethlehem,  and  Hebron.  Calling  on  allit- 
eration's artful  aid,  he  photographed  the  trading 
groups  with  their  motley  wear  and  different  objects. 
"  A  pilgrim  wanting  a  cucumber  or  a  camel,  a  house 
or  a  horse,  a  loan  or  a  lentil,  a  date  or  a  dragoman, 
a  melon  or  a  man,  a  dove  or  a  donkey,  had  only  to 
inquire  for  the  article  at  the  Jaffa  gate."  This  is  a 
fair  etching  of  the  business  folk  who  come,  linger, 
and  go,  now,  at  this  famous  gateway.  Outside,  two 
score  of  camels  are  kneeling  at  their  food,  amidst 
baskets  and  smokers,  babies  and  porters,  prestidi- 
gitators and  shoemakers.  The  camels  are  chewing 
the  cud  with  satisfaction  after  their  long  journeys. 
Every  kind  of  article,  animal,  utensil,  and  fruit  be- 
longing to  the  needs  of  this  generation,  here  is  being 
sold,  and  every  kind  of  person,  from  a  Bedouin  to 
a  bishop,  seems  to  be  chaffering.  Women  in  white, 
some  of  them  muffled,  being  Moslems  ;  some  in 
blue  cotton  garb,  being  in  worse  plight  and  lower 
grade  ;  and  others,  Christian  and  Hebrew,  in  white 

13 


290 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


and  Frank  attire,  without  the  provoking  yashmaks 
to  hide  their  features,  pass  and  repass  as  in  a  mas- 
querade, amidst  the  noisy  cry  of  the  dominant  and 
dissonant  Arab  voice,  Here  are  women  from 
Mount  Sinai  and  beyond,  with  Coptic  or  Egyptian 
faces,  such  as'  are  seen  on  old  tombs  in  the  land  of 
the  Sphinx,  with  necklaces  of  silver  coin,  flowing 
head-dresses,  and  ponderous  and  multiplied  ear  or- 
naments. Here  are  Nubians,  tall  and  straight, 
some  of  them  eunuchs,  and  all  of  them  black,  which 
is  impressive  for  its  dead,  dull,  unshiny  color.  Here 
are  sheiks,  graceful  in  mien  and  bronzed  in  face, 
with  their  robes  sashed  about  them,  and  the  long 
gun,  decked  with  mother-of-pearl,  slung  over  the 
shoulder.  But  why  particularize  further  ?  Outside 
it  is  an  oriental  market.  Inside,  in  the  cool  shade 
of  the  gateway,  on  the  stone  seat,  we  see  some 
Arabs  playing  cards,  and  others  casting  up  their 
accounts.  Within  the  city,  after  leaving  the  gate, 
you  are  in  the  throng  which  is  seeking  its  outlet  to 
the  market.  The  gate  itself  is  of  the  height  of  the 
walls,  fifty  feet  or  more.  It  is  somewhat  soiled, 
worn,  and  torn,  and  here  and  there  some  plants 
cling  to  its  rough  places.  It  has  now  the  Saracenic 
arch.  Its  counterpart,  walled  up,  is  in  another 
angle.  Evidently  this  gate  has  been  reconstructed 
in  parts  since  the  scenes  of  "  Ben-Hur  "  were  acted. 

But  we  must  be  alert  for  the  afternoon's  work, 
and  so,  being  mounted  on  our  donkeys,  we  proceed 
to  the  synagogue  and  wailing-place  of  the  Jews. 
Why  there  ?  Because  my  first  interest  centres 
there. 

The  Jews  of  this  country  are  increasing  in  num- 
bers and  in  the  quality  of  their  immigration.  Since 
Sir  Moses  Montefiore,  Judah  Touro,  of  New  Or- 


JERUSALEM  AND  HEBREW  HISTORY,  29I 

leans,  and  other  Hebrews  of  means  and  benevo- 
lence have  given  their  patronage  and  erected  long 
blocks  of  houses  without  the  walls,  a  better  tone 
prevails  as  to  their  condition  and  the  ultimate  res- 
toration of  the  land. 

In  Judea  there  are  now  over  fifteen  thousand 
Jews.  They  are  divided  between  two  classes,  the 
Spanish  and  Portuguese,  called  Sephardini,  and 
those  from  Germany,  Poland,  Russia,  and  elsewhere, 
called  Askenazim.  There  are  other  subdivisions. 
But  all  keep  the  fasts  and  festivals  with  the  same 
old  ceremony  and  vigilance  as  when  they  were 
"  chosen  "  of  God. 

There  is  something  about  the  history  and  topog- 
raphy of  Palestine  which  makes  the  land  as  "  pecu- 
liar "  as  the  people  who  gave  to  it  such  universal 
renown.  It  is,  as  a  country,  quite  isolated.  It  is 
shut  in  by  sea  and  desert,  and  only  open  at  the 
north  by  a  narrow  pass  into  Syria.  It  is  a  strange 
phenomenon,  this  choice  land  of  Jehovah.  Almost 
treeless,  riverless,  and  waterless,  yet  once  the  glory 
of  the  earth  by  the  cultivation  of  its  mountains  and 
the  culture  of  its  men.  It  is  belted  by  mountains, 
with  one  small  plain  by  the  sea,  which  has  been  the 
theatre  of  martial  exploits  from  the  time  of  Joshua 
to  Napoleon  I.  The  whole  land  is  elevated,  except 
this  plain,  along  the  sea  from  Carmel  to  Gaza. 
It  does  not  contain  more  than  twelve  thousand 
square  miles,  and  is  only  two  hundred  by  sixty  miles. 
Its  population  is  about  three  million,  and  amidst  its 
mixed  races  of  Turk,  Syrian,  Arab,  and  Greek, 
there  are  now  only  a  few  thousand  of  its  early  inhab- 
itants, who  once  numbered  millions.  It  seems  to 
have  sunk  out  of  sight,  as  a  land  of  milk  and  honey. 
As  a  nation  morally  and  economically  it  is  not  unlike 


292 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


the  valley  of  the  Jordan  and  the  Dead  Sea,  which, 
physically,  is  sunk  below  not  merely  the  level  of 
the  adjacent  mountains,  but  below  the  average 
level  of  the  earth  and  seas.  Its  religion  is  as  varied 
as  its  costumes.  Patriarchs  control  in  it,  what  the 
Moslem  does  not,  in  connection  with  those  things 
of  time  which  take  hold  of  the  unseen  world. 
What  a  history  it  has  !  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob 
as  rich  sheiks ;  then  the  Egyptian  sojourn  ;  then 
the  marvelous  deliverance  of  their  kindred  ;  the 
battles  of  Joshua;  the  division  of  the  land;  the 
loss  of  the  ten  tribes  ;  the  elders,  judges,  and  kings  ; 
the  division  of  the  kingdom  between  Israel  and 
Judah  ;  the  struggles  with  the  surrounding  nations, 
Assyria  and  Egypt  ;  the  Persian  conquest  ;  then 
that  of  Alexander ;  the  partition  ;  the  rule  of  the 
Ptolemies  and  of  Antiochus  ;  the  patriotic  struggle 
of  the  Maccabees  ;  then  the  Roman  imperial  con- 
trol, with  its  vicissitudes  ;  then  Herod,  the  Idu- 
maean  ;  the  stately  temple  rebuilt  with  marble  and 
gold  ;  and  then  the  birth  of  Christ,  a  descendant  of 
Hebrew  kings,  before  whose  august  name  for  two 
thousand  years  the  nations  have  bowed !  What 
crimes,  famines,  slaughters,  crusades,  insurrections, 
and  devastations  have  since  occurred  !  Judea  is 
the  pivot  of  history.  What  chivalry,  sacrifice, 
tyrannies,  butcheries,  and  bigotries,  under  all  sects, 
since  then,  this  land  has  witnessed  !  Are  they  not 
written  on  parchment,  pillar,  brass,  and  rock,  pic- 
tured on  canvas,  and  sculptured  in  bronze  and 
marble,  and  sung  by  the  muses  of  history  and 
poetry  of  all  time  and  every  land  ?  If,  therefore, 
one  were  a  liberal  student  of  history,  and  recog- 
nized the  splendor  of  the  Jewish  mind  and  morals, 
and  the  devotion  to  the  great  invisible  Creator 


JER  USA  LEM  A  ND  HEBRE  W  HIS  TOR  Y.  293 

which  these  men  of  Jewish  stock,  whether  prophet 
or  apostle,  whether  of  Carmel  or  Nazareth,  have 
illustrated  ;  and  aside  from  the  fact  of  their  election 
by  Jehovah  as  the  medium  for  his  revelations  to  man- 
kind— would  not  the  capital  inquiry  be,  How  do  the 
Jews  themselves  now  regard  their  relations  tojudea? 

Do  you  wonder  that  my  first  wish  was  to  visit 
the  scene  of  wailing  ?  Before  walking  about  Zion, 
or  telling  her  towers,  marking  her  bulwarks,  or  con- 
sidering her  palaces  ;  before  disputing  about  her 
streets  or  surveying  her  temples,  her  sepulchres,  and 
sites,  we  mounted  our  animals  and  proceeded  to 
the  place  of  Hebrew  wailing. 

Through  the  Jaffa  gate,  past  the  citadel  where 
the  white  uniformed  Turk  appears  on  guard, 
between  the  Christian  and  Armenian  quarters, 
separated  by  the  street  of  David,  stumbling  along 
amidst  the  quaint  population,  mostly  made  up  of 
Polish  Jews  in  their  curious  fur  caps  and  dark 
robes,  going  the  same  way,  on  this  Friday  after- 
noon ;  omitting  for  the  present  the  Church  of  St. 
John  and  the  holy  places  on  our  left,  moving  due 
east  in  the  narrow  ways  and  in  the  busy  and  dim 
bazaars,  we  pass  down,  at  last,  a  crooked  lane  to 
the  right,  and  find  ourselves  within  a  close  quad- 
rangle. It  is  shut  in  between  walls.  On  the  west 
the  wall  is  low ;  on  the  east  it  is  the  veritable 
and  venerable  wall  of  the  temple.  Its  enormous 
blocks  of  marble,  and  the  fact  of  its  being  below 
the  streets,  give  absolute  authenticity  to  the  place ; 
while  sounds  from  the  human  voice  break  in  dis- 
mal confirmation  upon  the  ear.  Every  Friday,  in 
the  afternoon,  this  strange  convocation  here  meet 
to  celebrate  their  misery,  and  after  that  go  to  their 
synagogues. 


294  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

When  we  reach  the  place,  there  are  already  a 
hundred  Hebrews  there — the  old  men  and  maid- 
ens, young  men  and  old  women — the  Russian  or 
Polish  Jews  predominating,  as  we  discriminate  by 
the  long,  straggling  curl  of  hair  brought  before  the 
ears,  and  the  unmistakable  fur  cap,  without  rim, 
about  the  head.  Some  of  the  Jews  have  on  old 
gabardines,  with  black  caps  or  turbans.  The 
women  are  in  black  dresses,  and  make  the  saddest 
lament.  They  stand,  with  faces  bathed  in  tears, 
against  the  marble  walls  of  the  temple,  and  lift  up 
their  voices  in  such  tones  that  it  seems  as  if  a 
fresh,  present  agony  were  torturing  their  souls. 
The  old  men  sit  on  stools,  or  on  benches  against 
the  west  wall.  They  hold  in  their  hands  the 
sacred  volume,  or  the  Hebrew  Psalter,  or  the 
Book  of  Jeremiah.  These  are  generally  large 
volumes.  These,  as  is  customary  in  the  East, 
they  read  or  chant,  with  the  body  swaying.  This 
is  no  mere  demonstration  for  the  eye ;  it  is  the  old 
lament.  It  is  as  old  as  those  days  when  the  stern 
Roman  soldier  allowed  this  refrain  to  be  sung — for 
a  consideration.  The  litany  they  chant  is  the  very 
lyric  of  woe.  Its  burden  is  loneliness,  departed 
beauty  and  glory,  now  ashes  and  despair.  They 
dwell  on  the  preciousness  of  the  temple,  now 
ground  to  dust  by  the  ignoble  feet  of  the  pagan 
and  spoiler.  They  utter  such  appeals  for  the 
deliverance  of  Zion  and  the  return  of  joy  to  Jeru- 
salem as  never  were  wailed  by  the  -Rachels  of  this 
world  weeping  for  their  children,  and  refusing 
to  be  comforted,  because  they  are  not.  To  look 
at  the  marble  blocks,  beveled  and  polished,  even 
worn  into  and  at  the  joints,  one  might  fancy  that 
( these  lamentations  had  begun  to  wear  and  pierce 


JERUSALEM  AND   HEBREW  HISTORY.  295 

the  walls  of  the  great  temple  itself.  Century 
after  century  have  these  cries  entered  within  these 
hallowed  marbles:  "  How  long,  Lord  !  how  long  !" 
"  Shall  thy  jealousy  burn  like  fire?"  Indeed,  the 
words  of  the  psalmist  here  find  wonderful  fulfill- 
ment, for  are  not  "  the  heathen  come  into  thine 
inheritance  ?  Thy  holy  temple  have  they  not 
defiled?  They  have  laid  Jerusalem  on  heaps" — 
literally  and  truly,  heaps  on  heaps. 

I  was  courteously  permitted  by  some  of  the  aged 
Hebrews,  in  the  intervals  of  their  prayers,  to  look 
at  their  old  and  well-worn  volumes.  The  pic- 
ture of  such  patriarchs  in  Israel  may  be  found 
in  every  gallery  of  Europe  where  art  has  caught 
the  features  of  prophecy,  and  in  the  Daniel  De- 
ronda  of  George  Eliot,  where  the  genius  of  fiction 
has  hallowed  the  devotion  of  ages.  But  let  it  not 
be  said — to  the  honor  of  the  Moslem  custodians 
of  the  temple — that  any  public  scorn  and  derision 
is  permitted  to  insult  this  congregation  in  this 
outer  sanctuary.  These  sad  inheritors  of  the  great 
prophecies  and  psalms  of  the  great  race  are  undis- 
turbed in  their  luxury  of  grief. 

After  this  exhibition,  and  in  the  full  blaze  of  his- 
tory, one  cannot  help  but  feel  that  this  is  especially 
the  city  of  the  Jews.  Christians  may  fight  for  and 
hold  its  holy  places ;  Moslems  may  guard  from  all 
other  eyes  the  tombs  of  David  and  Solomon  ;  the 
site  of  the  temple  on  Mount  Moriah  may  be  deco- 
rated by  the  mosques  of  Ornar  and  Aksa ;  but  if 
ever  there  was  a  material  object  on  earth  closely 
allied  with  a  people,  it  is  this  city  of  Jerusalem  with 
the  J ews.  I  n  all  their  desolation  and  wandering,  was 
there  ever  a  race  so  sensitive  as  to  the  city  of  its 
heart  and  devotion  ?  All  the  resources,  native  and 


296  FROM  POLE    TO   PYRAMID. 

acquired,  of  this  rare  race,  including  its  love  of 
music  and  domestic  devotion,  have  been  called  in 
to  summarize  and  aggrandize  the  soreness  of  its 
weeping  and  the  tearfulness  of  its  anguish  over 
the  fate  of  Jerusalem  and  the  restlessness  of  its 
exiles. 

Imagine,  for  a  moment,  the  exiled  children  or 
emigrants  of  other  lands  returning  to  their  ancestral 
homes  with  such  patriotic  and  pious  loyalty  to  the 
past.  An  Austrian  refugee  would  not  be  found 
weeping  about  the  Cathedral  of  St.  Stephen's  in 
Vienna,  or  a  Norwegian  over  the  tomb  or  well  of 
St.  Olaf  in  Trondhjem  ;  and  if  an  American  should 
be  found  dropping  tears  over  the  bones  of  Canute 
in  Winchester  Minster,  or  over  the  relics  of  the 
Plantagenets  and  Tudors  in  Westminster,  the  mock- 
cry  would  be  as  funny  as  that  of  the  lachrymose 
Twain  over  the  grave  of  Adam.  There  is  only  one 
people  whose  devotion  to  its  old  home  can  be  com- 
pared with  this  of  the  Hebrew  to  Jerusalem,  its 
temples,  valleys,  and  sepulchres.  It  is  that  of  the 
Irish  to  their  antique  altars  and  beloved  isle.  This 
unexampled  devotion  finds  its  expression  in  this 
wailing-place.  Referring  to  it,  in  some  remarks  in 
Congress  apropos  of  the  persecutions  in  Russia  and 
elsewhere,  and  recalling  my  own  picture,  I  felt  an 
irresistible  impulse  to  witness  it,  in  spite  of  the 
painfulness  of  the  spectacle. 

What  plummet  ever  sounded  such  a  deep  of  des- 
olation ?  What  wine-press  was  ever  trodden  by 
such  weary  feet  ?  What  promise  of  an  Eden  was 
ever  so  blighted  into  a  waste  ?  Yet  these  stricken 
souls  lift  up  their  souls  in  ecstasy.  They  see  the 
fountains  silver  in  the  sands  ;  marble  cities,  pillared 
in  proportion,  rearise  ;  the  crown  again  upon  the 


JERUSALEM  AND  HEBREW  HISTORY.  2gj 

bared  head  of  Judah ;  song,  timbrel,  and  dance, 
and  flowers  from  Sharon,  grapes  from  Engedi,  and 
a  new  dawn  on  the  towers  of  Salem  ! 

And  the  word  comes  back  to  them,  in  their  dole- 
ful wailing,  from  the  outer  world — a  \vorld  regen- 
erated with  the  new  and  strange  forces  of  steam  and 
electricity ;  a  new  civilization  born  of  progress  and 
enlightenment,  and  dashing  by  their  ancient  haunts 
with  a  chariot  more  fleet  and  fiery  than  that  in 
which  their  prophet  ascended — "  Not  long,  not 
long,  ye  wandering  ones  of  Israel.  Your  day  of 
enfranchisement  is  nigh."  If  not  in  a  physical, 
yet  in  a  spiritual  sense,  comes  back  the  hymn, 
which  new  voices  are  raising  f he  world  over : 

"  Rise,  royal  city  ;  Zion,  rise  ! 

Thy  king's  approach  to  hail  ! 
Long  has  thy  night  of  mourning  been 
In  sorrow's  gloomy  vale." 

Whether  it  shall  ever  come  to  pass  that  this 
remarkable  race  shall  repossess  the  land  of  their 
ancestors;  whether  the  temple  shall  again  arise 
within  the  walls  of  Zion  ;  whether  the  teachings  of 
their  religion  and  all  the  elevated  thoughts  of  their 
poets,  prophets,  and  priests  shall  be  sung  even 
"within  thy  gates,  O  Jerusalem!"  one  thing  is  to 
be  conceded,  that  in  America,  under  our  free  insti- 
tutions, they  are  permitted  unmolested  to  worship 
the  Jehovah  of  their  fathers,  where  at  least  they 
have  a  highway  out  of  Egypt  into  the  promised 
land  !  Wherever  may  be  their  local  habitation, 
from  the  summit  of  Mount  Sinai  still  radiates  the 
eternal  lesson  cut  in  stone  ;  from  the  calcined  soil 
and  the  sacred  mountains  of  Judea  goes  forth  an 
effluence,  to  civilize,  cheer,  and  bless.  No  one  can 


290 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


be  so  darkened  in  his  understanding  as  not  to  see 
the  wonderful  power  of  that  little  land  through 
which  the  Jordan  flows,  with  a  population  not 
larger  than  one  of  our  own  counties,  which  for  two 
thousand  years  and  more  has  held  the  world  in 
thrall  by  its  teachings  and  by  its  worship  of  the 
invisible  Jehovah.  Its  people  have  carried  the  ark 
of  their  covenant  into  many  lands  and  climes  ;  and 
though  bigotry  may  still  be  pleased  to  think  that 
their  dispersion  as  a  people  is  a  curse,  still  from 
their  migrations  humanity  has  been  beautified,  jus- 
tice purified,  and  liberty  glorified  !  Out  of  their 
rigid  and  austere  code  there  springs  and  flows  for- 
ever an  influence  as  gentle  as  the  dews  that  fall 
upon  Hermon,  and  as  potential  as  the  quaking  of 
Sinai,  out  of  whose  throes  came  the  great  moral 
law  of  mankind  ! 

Finding  the  preparations  for  service  in  the  syna- 
gogue incomplete,  and  desirous  to  get  a  glimpse  of 
the  city  from  an  elevation  before  nightfall,  we  were 
permitted  to  ascend  to  the  roof  of  the  synagogue. 
The  picture  enhanced  the  solemn  and  grand 
thoughts  which  are  beginning  to  grow  and  supplant 
our  first  feeble  impressions.  Although  not  the 
best  point  of  observation,  yet  from  it  the  main 
features  of  the  city  can  be  defined.  To  the  north- 
west are  seen  the  domes  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy 
Sepulchre  and  the  Church  of  Queen  Helena,  and 
beyond  the  walls  and  the  Damascus  gate  are  the 
tombs  of  the  kings  ;  to  the  north-east,  Mount  Scopus 
runs  southward  into  the  Mount  of  Olives,  with  its 
church  and  point  of  the  ascension  on  the  east.  Be- 
tween it  and  our  view  is  the  Mosque  of  Omar,  des- 
ecrating under  its  dome,  and  with  its  mummery  of 
Mohammedanism,  the  site  of  the  great  temple. 


JERUSALEM  AND  HEBREW  HISTORY.  299 

Scattered  trees  are  about  the  sides  of  the  Mount 
of  Olives,  and  minarets  aspire  from  Mount  Moriah, 
where  two  mosques  hide  the  sacred  temple.  Turn- 
ing our  eyes  downward,  to  the  south  are  the  narrow 
streets  of  the  Jewish  quarter,  upon  whose  roofs 
we  see  people  preparing  booths  for  the  coming 
Passover ;  while  beyond,  in  ever-enduring  mag- 
nificence, is  that  cynosure  which  first  caught 
our  vision  here,  the  mountains  of  Moab,  made 
enchanting  by  the  dreamy  evening  lustre,  and 
the  attenuated  and  fairy  scarf  of  distance  !  Jor- 
dan and  the  Dead  Sea  are  not  seen.  Bare  mount- 
ains of  "  the  desert "  are  seen,  between  Moab  and 
our  vision.  The  house  of  Caiaphas,  the  Protes- 
tant cemeteries,  and  the  tomb  of  David — a  strange, 
incongruous  company  of  localities — are  pointed  out, 
just  outside  the  walls.  All  about  us  are  the  walls 
— battlemented  and  antique  walls — and  without 
them,  tombs — tombs  in  caves,  tombs  cut  in  solid 
rocks,  tombs  whose  stones  lie  in  flat  and  wretched 
disorder  on  hill  and  on  vale,  tombs  everywhere ! 
To  the  south-west  is  Zion  gate.  It  seems  to  be 
the  highest  place.  It  overlooks  many  ancient  and 
modern  tombs,  as  well  as  the  Montefiore  cottages ; 
and  to  the  west  the  Armenian  convent  and  its  few 
palms,  and  even  the  valley  of  Hinnom. 

The  general  impression  of  the  holy  city  is 
that  of  square,  whitish  houses,  with  many  domes. 
But  what  we  see  is  not  the  ancient  city  and  walls  ; 
it  is  the  outer  shell  of  shells.  These  are  but  the 
foundations  for  the  "  heaps  "  of  two  or  three  thou- 
sand years.  To  touch  the  sacred  soil,  you  must  do 
as  many  engineers  and  enthusiasts  are  doing,  exca- 
vate a  hundred  feet  or  more.  But  where  the  rocks 
protrude,  and  in  the  great  mosque,  on  the  temple's 


300 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


old  site,  you  find  solid  substance,  which  has  defied 
the  tooth  of  time  and  the  vandalism  of  man. 

Retiring  from  this  scene,  we  content  ourselves 
for  the  present  with  a  hurried  visit  to  the  Holy 
Sepulchre,  Golgotha,  and  Calvary.  The  confusion 
of  so  many  creeds  and  rites  here,  celebrating  the 
divine  benefactions  and  sacrifice,  with  the  intricacies 
of  the  "places,"  jars  upon  the  mind  and  soul.  It 
renders  this  visit  all  too  brief  and  unsatisfactory. 
It  requires  another  and  more  exhaustive  study. 

Following  our  guide  through  mazes  of  narrow 
streets,  consciously  going  over  the  ground  once 
familiar  to  prophets  and  saints,  and  threading  the 
Jewish  quarter,  we  make  our  exit  from  the  Zion 
gate  on  the  south-west,  and  thence  due  north,  under 
the  shadow  of  the  western  wall,  which  is  gilded  with 
a  pensive  light,  we  find  rest  from  our  first  day's 
observations. 

If  at  first  we  were  disappointed  at  the  small  size 
and  meagre  aspect  of  the  city,  we  are  beginning 
already  to  wonder  and  worship.  The  very  air,  the 
very  stones,  the  very  dust — and  especially  the 
rocks — seem  sacred.  Here  is  the  sepulchre,  not 
of  a  nation  merely,  but  of  a  Saviour ;  not  of  dead, 
buried  hopes,  but  a  monument  of  living  and  risen 
glories,  not  of  an  old  and  honored  dispensation 
from  Jehovah,  but  of  a  new  and  potential  Evangel. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

THE  STAR  IN  THE  EAST—  WHAT  BETHLEHEM  IS  TO-DAY 
SCENES  OF  THE  SAVIOUR'S  BIRTHPLACE. 

Like  a  pall  at  rest  on  a  pulseless  breast 

Night's  funeral  shadow  slept  — 
Where  shepherd  swains,  on  Bethlehem  plains, 

Their  lonely  vigils  kept  j 
When  I  flashed  on  their  sight  the  heralds  bright 

Of  heaven's  redeeming  plan, 
As  they  chanted  the  morn  of  a  Saviour  born  — 

Joy,  joy  to  the  outcast,  man.  —  WILLIAM  PITT  WALLACE. 


chapters,  I  propose,  for  Bethlehem, 
Jerusalem,  and  Bethany  ;  birth,  death,  and 
ascension.  I  begin  at  Bethlehem. 

The  distance  from  Jerusalem  to  Bethlehem  is 
but  a  half  dozen  miles.  We  propose  to  go  to  and 
from  it  in  a  morning.  Our  vehicle  with  its  female 
French  driver,  which  brought  us  from  Jaffa,  was 
retained  for  the  purpose.  Although  the  road  was 
rough  and  stony,  and  the  streets  narrow,  we  risked 
the  carriage  and  ignored  the  donkey  on  the  pledge 
of  the  guide.  The  sequel  showed  that  there  was 
some  risk,  as  many  of  the  streets  were  impassable 
for  a  carriage. 

We  leave  the  Jaffa  gate,  pass  under  the  upper 
aqueduct  and  over  the  upper  part  of  Gihon,  and 
then  drive  nearly  due  south.  The  bed  of  the 
Kedron,  in  the  deep  valley  on  our  left,  pursues  its 
empty  way  to  the  Dead  Sea;  while  on  the  right, 
and  to  the  west,  along  the  horizon,  in  broken  and 

301 


302 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


gray  masses,  lie  the  mountains  of  Judah,  shutting 
out  the  Mediterranean.  One  lonely  person  we 
meet  in  the  unaccustomed  path  between  the 
stone  walls  before  we  reach  the  direct  way  to 
Bethlehem.  He  wears  a  stove-pipe  hat.  Its 
strangeness  and  awkwardness  in  this  land  of  robe, 
fez,  and  turban,  create  a  smile.  When  we  reach 
the  main  road,  and  leave  the  "  hill  of  evil  coun- 
sel "  on  our  left,  we  find  the  way  filled  with  laden 
camels.  Under  the  lash  of  our  guide  these  give 
the  way,  and  with  considerable  malice  both  they 
and  their  drivers  fumble  and  tumble  about  awk- 
wardly amid  the  rubble  of  the  road.  The  olives 
are  thick,  perforated,  and  old,  in  the  fields,  within 
the  stone  walls.  "  Where,"  we  ask  of  the  guide, 
"  do  they  get  so  much  stone  for  the  walls  ?  " 

They  are  ten  feet  wide  and  three  high,  and  like  the 
Dutchman's  wall  of  the  anecdote,  "when  they  fall 
down  they  are  higher  than'  when  they  stand 
up!" 

"  Why  do  you  ask  ?  "  says  the  guide.  "  Don't  you 
see  the  fields  are  full  of  stones  ?  " 

"  But  no  one  could  miss  any  stones  out  of  those 
fields,"  we  remarked. 

"  Oh  !  a  few  are  left  over,"  responds  the  guide. 

How  the  hardy  olive  can  find  sustenance  on  such 
"  stony  ground  "  is  a  miracle. 

But  for  the  olive  the  best  of  these  fields  of  cul- 
tivation would  seem  desolate  and  lonely.  The 
olive  does  not  stand  in  any  regular  row,  like  our 
apple-trees.  The  fences  and  boundaries,  whether 
of  cactus  hedge  or  stone,  are  as  crooked  as  the 
olive  trunks  and  branches,  and  these  are  twisted 
from  their  sapling  youth  to  their  gnarled  old  age. 
The  peasants,  when  they  plant  the  olive,  set  their 


THE   STAR  IN    THE  EAST. 


3°3 


sticks  in  the  ground  and  twist  several  of  them  to- 
gether ;  and  as  are  these  twigs,  so  are  the  trees. 

We  are  happy  in  a  breezy  day,  which  mitigates 
the  fierceness  of  the  sun.  What  a  crowd  of  people 
now  are  upon  the  road,  going  to  Bethlehem  and 
Hebron,  and  to  Beersheba,  and  even  further  south. 
Nine  out  of  ten  of  these  are  upon  Donkeys  and 
camels ;  and  more  than  three-fourths  have  their 
eyes  sore  or  shaded;  and  these  are  Arabs,  whose 
suit  is  sometimes  gay  in  color,  but  generally  of 
stripes,  brown  and  white,  which  reminds  us  of  the 
dress  of  our  penitentiaries,  barring  the  long  robe 
of  the  wearer.  They  carry  the  long  Damascus 
gun,  and  a  plentiful  pouch,  for  the  desert  and  danger. 
Cactuses,  with  their  big  stocks  and  leaves,  furnish 
some  of  the  hedges,  and  "  turn  "  the  animals  from 
the  fields.  We  meet  some  people,  who  are  blue- 
eyed  and  good-eyed,  in  European  dress.  These  are 
of  the  German  colony,  which  here  thrives  upon  the 
old  soil,  and  makes  its  crops  of  grape  and  grain 
in  their  season,  or  several  crops  in  one  season. 
Some  herds  of  black  and  white  cattle  of  Dutch 
breed  are  seen  picking  up  a  quiet  rumination  from 
the  browned  herbage  and  the  gree.n  leaves  left  on 
the  trees. 

The  land  is  not  unlike  the  dress  of  the  Arabs — 
brown  and  white.  It  is  burnt  with  the  sun  of  the 
now  departing  summer,  and  white  with  the  lime  of 
many  summers. 

"  Ah  !  this  is  fine  land  ! "  we  say  ironically  to  the 
guide. 

"  Good  land  !  I  guess  it  is,"  responds  the  guide, 
who  is  from  the  State  of  Maine,  "  or  it  wouldn't 
hold  up  so  many  stones  and  rocks.  Good  deal  of 
heft  about  it." 


3°4 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


But  we  notice  that  where  water  runs  the  vine- 
yards of  the  Germans  appear,  and  the  walls  have 
a  trim  look.  Thrift,  Teuton  !  thy  name  is  thrift ! 
Old  olive  roots  for  fuel,  as  twisted  and  as  difficult 
to  unravel  as  the  philological  roots  of  our  college 
days,  appear  on  the  backs  of  multitudinous  donkeys 
going  up  to  the  city  ;  while  going  from  it,  for  the 
terraces,  on  the  heads  of  blue-robed,  tattooed  Arab 
females,  are  baskets  of  manure  gathered  in  Jerusa- 
lem. The  plain  of  Rephaim  is  spread  around  us, 
two  miles  wide  by  three  long.  Here  David  defeated 
the  Philistines.  Here  also  many  associations  cluster. 
Among  them  the  cave  of  Adullam  has  been  veri- 

& 

lied,  which  another  Samuel  has  described,  and  the 
well  of  Bethlehem,  "  which  is  by  the  gate,"  for  the 
water  of  which  David  was  athirst,  comes  in  for  an 
explanation  from,  our  Biblical  guide,  with  apt  quo- 
tations from  "Samuel."  These,  however  interest- 
ing, must  not  draw  us  aside.  We  had  passed  the 
traditional  tree  where  Judas  hanged  himself,  and 
the  rural  abode  of  Caiaphas,  the  high-priest ;  but 
these  nebulae  of  tradition  detract  from  the  main 
object — Bethlehem.  The  Well  of  the  Magi,  how- 
ever, is  one  of  the  incidents  of  the  main  object,  and 
a  pretty  story  is  told  of  it,  although  it  is  not  re- 
corded in  the  second  of  Matthew ;  for  did  not  the 
wise  men,  after  leaving  the  presence  of  Herod,  here 
stop  to  draw  water  ?  Was  it  not  here  that  the 
reflection  of  the  star  which  led  them  was  seen  in 
the  well  ? 

Then  we  pass  the  Greek  convent  of  Elijah,  where 
other  stories  are  told,  not  now  worth  the  repetition. 
But  from  this  point  the  cities  of  Bethlehem  and  Jeru- 
salem are  visible — "  twinned  in  mutual  being,"  birth 
and  death.  From  this  eminent  point,  too,  can  be 


THE   STAR  IN   THE  EAST. 


305 


seen  the  sugar-loaf  mountain  called  the  Tomb  of 
Herod.  It  is  hio^h  and  round.  It  is  the  scene  of 

<^ 

a  massacre  of  Franciscans  ;  but  it  sinks  into  noth- 
ingness, as  Herod  did,  compared  with  those  he 
persecuted,  along  with  that  dim  vision,  shining  hard 
and  bluish  like  steel,  twenty-five  and  more  miles 
away,  through  avenues  of  dark  and  gray  sun-bathed 
mountains.  That  is  the  Dead  Sea.  This  is  our 
first  glimpse  of  this  famous  laboratory  and  sport  of 
nature.  Below  and  around  is  something  more  at- 
tractive to  both  eye  and  memory.  It  is  the  field 
of  Boaz  and  the  scene  of  that  sweet  story  of  love. 

"  Ruth  and  Luke  ! "  cries  out  our  guide. 

"  Ruth  and  Boaz,  rather,"  I  respond,  with  a 
pleasant  thought,  too,  of  Naomi,  the  mother-in-law, 
as  we  gaze  with  curious  eye  over  the  rolling,  bleak, 
and  now  dry  fields.,  where  the  ever  new,  ever  old 
tale  of  female  devotion  is  located.  Then  Bethle- 
hem appears  more  clearly.  Its  prominent  object  is 
the  Church  of  the  Nativity  within  its  semicircle. 
On  the  right  is  the  old  Knights  Templars'  castle, 
now  the  house  of  the  Austrian  consul.  The  land- 
scape begins  to  show  much  grape  and  olive.  The 
square,  solid  houses  of  Bethlehem,  and  terraced 
hills,  gardened  and  groved,  amid  ledges  of  lime- 
stone, make  as  pretty  a  picture  in  its  frame  of  rock 
as  artist  could  desire  to  delineate. 

Our  guide  calls  a  halt  at  the  foot  of  the  hill.  We 
are  at  a  singular  square  tomb.  It  is  not  unlike 
those  domed  temples  which  we  have  seen  for  the 
burial  of  holy  men  in  Algiers  and  Syria.  •  It  is  the 
tomb  of  Rachel.  Surrounding  it  are  the  slovenly 
tombs  of  Mohammedans,  with  their  rough  grave- 
stones lying  loosely  in  dirt  and  dust.  It  was  built 
by  the  Hebrews.  Here  they  come  on  Thursdays 


306 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


to  wail  and  burn  incense.  There  is  no  doubt  that 
here  not  only  was  Benjamin  born,  but  Rachel  died. 
All  agree  to  this  ;  and  it  is  pleasant  to  have  broth- 
ers— both  Hebrew  and  Moslem,  both  of  whom 
claim  a  fee-simple  in  all  that  concerns  Jacob — agree 
upon  something.  Here  Jacob  set  a  pillar  to  mem- 
orize the  last  resting-place  of  her  whom  he  won 
after  such  a  romantic,  though  dilatory,  courtship. 
Seven  years  was  nothing  "  for  the  love  he  bore 
her."  "And  as  for  me" — how  sad  the  simple  story 
— "  I  buried  her  there,  in  the  way  of  Ephrath — the 
same  is  Bethlehem  ! " 

Who  is  the  strange  man  we  see  sitting  •>  wearily 
at  the  arched  door  of  the  tomb  ?  What  brings 
this  pilgrim  here — he  of  the  grisly  beard,  and  long, 
unkempt  hair?  He  is  no  Arab — no  Hebrew.  He 
wears  no  bournous  of  stripes,  and  no  dark  gabar- 
dine ;  only  a  plain  black  garment,  dusty,  like  his 
bare  feet,  with  travel.  We  ask  him,  through  our 
Yankee-Arab  guide,  not  altogether  incurious  at 
this  sad,  strange,  and  lonely  warder  at  the  birth- 
place of  Benoni — "son  of  my  sorrow"  —Is  he,  too, 
like  us,  a  pilgrim  to  this  tomb  and  shrine  of  the 
elder  day  ?  Yes,  he  is  a  pilgrim,  like  us — and  from 
Russia.  He  is  a  Greek  priest  from  the  Volga,  and 
lives  spiritually  upon  Jordan's  stormy  banks,  wait- 
ing for  the  peaceful  shore  ;  and  really  upon  Jor- 
dan's arable  banks,  waiting  for  the  rains  to  fructify 
his  fields.  He  owns  property  here  also,  and  has 
come  hither  to  make  his  new  leases.  Thus  was 
our  illusion  of  the  pilgrim  at  Rachel's  tomb  dissi- 
pated ;  for  even  here  the  cause  of  the  pilgrimage 
was  a  causa  lucri.  Near  by,  on  the  west,  in  the 
village  of  Beit  Jala,  live  the  Greek  and  Armenian 
patriarchs,  so  that  this  is  a  pious  precinct,  and  land 


THE   STAR  IN   THE  EAST. 


3°7 


is  none  the  less  valuable  because  it  is  not  culti- 
vated by  Arabs  or  overrun  by  Bedouins ;  Chris- 
tians till  it.  At  this  point  you  may  go  to  Solo- 
mon's pools.  They  are  one  of  the  wonders  of  this 
vicinity,  and  worthy  of  minute  description  for  their 
beauty,  size,  history,  and  permanency.  From  them 
yet,  waters  flow  into  the  mosque  which  is  built 
over  the  temple.  Here  is  the  "  Sealed  Fountain," 
referred  to  in  Solomon's  Songs.  It  is  said  that 
these  pools  were  repaired  by  Pontius  Pilate  ;  but 
that  would  not  make  their  waters  more  agreeable. 
Maiden-hair  ferns  abound  about  them,  and  swim- 
mers of  an  archaeological  turn  can  take  a  plunge 
and  come  up  beaded  with  antiquities.  We  had  no 
occasion  to  study  in  that  fashion,  and  were  content 
to  see  the  Arab  women  fill  their  goat-skins  from 
one  of  the  openings  of  the  aqueduct. 

The  hill-tops  show  little  villages  after  we  leave 
the  Hebron  road,  but  none  look  as  blithe  and  pros- 
perous as  Bethlehem,  as  she  sits  crescent-shaped 
upon  the  mountain  side.  How  or  whence  come  its 
vine,  fig,  and  olive  luxuriance  I  cannot  see,  except 
that  the  water  comes  mysteriously  from  the  pools 
of  Solomon ;  for  is  it  not  said  in  Ecclesiastes,  "  I 
made  me  pools  of  water  to  water  therewith  the 
wood  that  bringeth  forth  trees?"  Or  perhaps  this 
white  soil  hath  dews.  Certain  it  is  that  in  and 
around  Bethlehem  something  else  was  grown  in 
early  days  than  the  sheep  which  David  tended 
hereabouts,  or  the  lion  and  the  bear  which  he 
fought.  Here  were  once  the  fruitful  barley  fields 
which  Ruth  gleaned  after  the  reapers,  when  the 
great  love  arose  in  the  breast  of  Boaz,  out  of 
which  grew  the  stock  of  Jesse  and  David — a  line 
ever  made  benign  by  having  as  its  pleasant  places 


308  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

the  vicinity  of  Bethlehem,  and  its  ancestress  Ruth, 
and  its  descendant  Jesus,  the  son  of  Joseph  and 
Mary !  Here  is  the  source  of  the  kings  of  Judah 
and  the  world's  Saviour ! 

We  halt  at  the  gate  of  the  town.  We  are, 
owing  to  impediments,  compelled  to  abandon  our 
carriage.  We  are  surrounded  by  a  bevy  of  Beth- 
lehem girls.  One  is  exceedingly  pretty,  and  does 
not  degrade  the  neighborhood  of  Ruth  by  unseemly 
screeching  for  alms.  She  plies  a  little  pair  of  pin- 
cers, and  turns  in  and  twists  upon  the  wires  olive 
beads  for  rosaries,  with  a  "property  of  easiness" 
which  Shakespeare  commends  in  the  "  hand  of  little 
employment,"  meanwhile  chatting  with  easy  grace. 
My  wife  buys  one,  and  contracts  for  another  rosary, 
to  be  made  before  we  return. 

These  dozen  girls,  of  whom  "  Eothen  "  makes  an 
extravagant  picture  of  coy  and  debonair  loveliness, 
are  vivacious  and  somewhat  pretty,  and  would  be 
more  so  if  not  dirty  and  sore-eyed.  They  wear 
little,  close,  cottage  caps,  with  two  or  three  rows  of 
coins  lapping  closely  on  each  other,  and  in  the  sum 
making  quite  a  dowry.  They  jingle  merrily  when 
shaken.  I  would  not  depreciate  these  Christian 
maidens,  for  these  are  not  of  the  Moslem  religion, 
whatever  their  blood.  But  I  cannot  fail  to  portray 
one  beautiful  woman,  a  young  mother,  who,  be  it 
said  reverently,  recalled,  if  not  the  Madonna,  the 
picture  of  her  by  Raphael — "  La  Perla  "-—in  which 
the  magi  are  offering  gold,  frankincense,  and  myrrh. 
She  sat  apart  upon  a  stone  under  the  shade  of  the 
archway,  nursing  a  babe.  Her  hair  had  that  rich 
auburn  and  ethereal  fineness  with  which  Murillo 
favors  his  Madonnas,  which  are  likenesses,  by  the 
way,  of  his  Andalusian  wife.  I  wondered  if,  per- 


THE   STAR  IN   THE  EAST. 


3°9 


adventure,  this  beautiful  Bethlehem  mother  might 
not  have  in  her  veins  some  of  that  precious  blood 
of  the  house  and  lineage  of  David  that  escaped  the 
murderous  decree  of  Herod. 

Bethlehem  has  four  thousand  people  and  five 
hundred  houses.  Many  of  the  houses  are  substan- 
tial. The  streets  are  so  narrow  that  our  guide  has 
to  ride  ahead  and  employ  people  to  move  impedi- 
ments out  of  the  way.  It  is  said  the  people  are 
handsome.  That  reputation  may  come  from  the 
ruddy  cheeks  of  David,  or  the  graces  of  Ruth,  or 
the  pictures  of  the  Madonna.  One  thing  must  be 
said  of  the  town,  and  that  is,  that  if  it  has  any  beauty 
or  good  in  it,  it  is  Christian,  for  it  is  par  excellence 
the  Christian  town  of  Judea.  In  1834,  after  an 
insurrection  by  the  Arabs,  Ibrahim  Pasha,  then 
ruler,  riddled  the  Moslems  unto  death  after  his 
peculiar  methods,  quite  worthy  of  a  successor  of 
Herod. 

Before  purchasing  our  olive-wood,  beads,  mother- 
of-pearl,  and  other  souvenirs,  where  many  such  are 
deftly  made  by  exquisite  art,  we  make  our  visit  to 
the  most  attractive  place  of  Bethlehem.  The  place 
of  the  Nativity  has  been  often  described,  and  the 
church  above  it.  Every  object  and  personage  here 
and  hereabout  have  been  the  special  object  of  gifted 
pens  and  impassioned  eloquence.  Make  a  catalogue 
simply  of  the  names ;  and  each  name  will  be  set  to 
music  like  a  psalm.  The  anointing  of  David  by 
Samuel  ;  the  family  of  Jesse  and  their  exploits ; 
Joab,  Abishai,  and  Asahel ;  "the  city  of  David," 
as  Bethlehem  is  called,  Rehoboam's  stronghold, 
the  habitation  of  Chimham  ;  the  story  of  Joseph 
coming  from  Galilee  out  of  Nazareth ;  in  fine,  the 
incarnation  of  the  Word  here  in  all  its  mystery, 


310  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

each  and  all  are  a  poem  which  resounds  from  the 
simple  cave  in  Bethlehem,  with  a  sweeter  and  louder 
chorus  than  that  of  the  Hellenic  epos  of  the  blind 
old  man  of  that  Scio  whose  shaken  rocks  we  left 
but  a  fortnight  since. 

Let  us  enter  this  place  of  the  Nativity.  It  has 
been  honored,  as  is  well  fixed,  since  the  second  cen- 
tury. Over  it,  in  the  third  century,  the  mother  of 
Constantine  erected  that  church  which  is  the  oldest 
in  the  world.  Some  of  its  columns  are  from  the 
temple.  Here  in  one  corner  of  the  church  we  per- 
ceive a  lonely  hermit.  He  is  insane.  He  has  been 
twenty-five  years  in  this  place,  drawn,  like  many 
others,  by  the  wildness  of  his  vagaries  about  the  un- 
known world.  He  is  a  Chaldean,  and,  it  is  said, 
was  a  sheik  of  his  tribe.  Amid  the  forty  old  pil- 
lars of  the  porch  of  the  temple,  brought  to  deco- 
rate the  birthplace  of  Jesus,  sits  this  strange  man. 
Had  he  lived  in  the  time  of  the  Saviour,  and 
had  his  faith  been  then  as  now,  perhaps  the  demon 
of  insanity  might  have  been  exorcised. 

But  it  is  the  crypt  we  seek.  There  are  two 
chapels  here,  leading  to  the  place  of  Christ's  birth  ; 
one  is  Greek  and  the  other  Armenian.  On  the 
north  side  there  is  a  Catholic  convent  and  church. 
From  this  there  are  steps  to  the  holy  spot.  We 
choose  to  go  by  the  Latin  way.  There  are  many 
reasons  why  the  Latin  way  in  the  Orient  is  pre- 
ferred. No  traveler  can  fail  to  note  the  learned, 
modest,  and  elevated  tone  of  the  Latins,  com- 
pared with  the  Greeks  and  Copts. 

The  priest  at  this  spot  makes  his  drudgery 
divine  as  well  as  intelligent.  We  are  welcomed 
to  the  convent  by  him.  Like  most  of  the  Catholic 
priests  in  the  East,  he  speaks  French.  Our  guide 


THE   STAR  7JV   THE  EAST.  3II 

seems  to  be  a  favorite  with  him.  He  invites  us  to 
a  glass  of  native  wine  or  tea,  and  under  his  direc- 
tion, and  with  lighted  taper,  we  take  our  devious 
way  below.  Many  tombs  line  this  dark  path,  and 
among  them  is  the  tomb  of  St.  Jerome.  It  is  to 
his  patience,  goodness,  and  scholarship  the  world 
owes  the  Vulgate,  or  Latin  edition  of  the  Bible. 
It  was  here  that  this  early  and  great  father  gave 
his  forty  years  of  seclusion  for  the  glory  of  God 
and  the  benefit  of  mankind.  Approach  the  chapel 
of  the  Nativity.  You  will  know  it  by  the  Latin 
inscription  and  the  silver  star  in  the  centre.  We  are 
led  into  this  vault  by  the  priest.  He  shows  us  the 
manger.  It  is  explained  to  us  that  in  "those 
days "  stables  were  not  unusually  found  in  the 
caves  so  common  in  the  hilly  places  of  Palestine. 
This  cave  is  many  feet  below  the  floor  of  the 
church.  It  is  thirty-three  by  eleven  feet,  and  deco- 
rated with  marble.  Precious  lamps  burn  before 
figures  of  saints,  chief  among  them  St.  Jerome. 
Sixteen  silver  lamps  burn  over  the  spot  where  the 
silver  star  indicates  the  place  of  birth.  Another 
recess  shows  the  place  where  the  wooden  manger, 
now  in  Rome,  was  found.  Other  spots  are  shown, 
as  the  chapel  of  St.  Jerome,  and  the  chapel  of 
Joseph,  where  the  angel  appeared  to  tell  him  to 
fly  to  Egypt. 

If  these  are  apocryphal  traditions,  they  do  not 
detract  from  the  fact  established  by  scholars  and 
antiquarians,  and  confirmed  as  well  by  what  St. 
Jerome  wrote  as  by  his  selection  of  this  spot 
for  his  duties  and  fasts.  He  believed  it  to  be 
the  place,  as  his  life  and  death  bore  witness. 
Never  did  art  consummate  so  splendid  a  represen- 
tation of  self-abnegation  as  that  wherein  Dome- 


312 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


nichino  portrays  the  last  scene  in  the  life  of  this 
Dalmatian  saint  and  hero,  who  verified  as  well  in 
his  life  as  by  his  death  his  faith  in  the  goodness 
and  glory  of  the  Gospel,  whose  good  tidings  were 
chanted  first  in  the  starry  vault  of  Bethlehem ! 

Doubt  as  we  may  as  to  the  Milk  Grotto,  the 
Shepherds'  Grotto,  the  Magi's  Well,  David's  Well, 
and  the  burial  of  the  twenty  thousand  innocents 
murdered  by  Herod  here ;  doubt  as  to  the  Shep- 
herds' Fold,  the  Altar  of  the  "Wise  Men";  doubt- 
doubt  that  Christ  was  born  immaculate  and  miracu- 
lously ;  but  one  thing  is  indubitable — that  Christ 
was  here  born,  and  that  from  this  nativity  arose 
an  orient  sunbeam,  for  the  faith  in  whose  benefi- 
cent and  heavenly  guidance  thousands  have  per- 
ished as  martyrs,  and  millions  have  risked  their 
souls'  salvation !  What  place  can  be  more  holy, 
unless  it  be  that  consecrated  by  his  death  ! 

There  are  said  to  be  only  two  places  in  this  Holy 
Land  superior  in  sacred  associations  to  this  place : 
Jerusalem  and  Nazareth.  To  my  mind,  Bethlehem 
has  no  superior,  unless  it  be  Jerusalem.  "Why?" 
will  occur  to  the  learned  Bible  student  and  to  the 
veriest  child  who  has  read  the  Gospels.  Bethlehem 
is  not  one  of  the  mountains  which  encompass  Jeru- 
salem, but  it  has  its  lofty  thought.  It  is  a  beaute- 
ous pearl  in  the  diadem  round  about  the  royal  city. 
It  is  not  the  scene  of  sacrifice  and  sepulchre  ;  but 
it  is  the  scene  of  the  nativity  and  the  magi,  and  of 
the  angelic  song  which  ushered  in  the  purest  and 
greatest  life  ever  clad  in  flesh. 

Among  the  hundreds  of  books  of  travel  and  de- 
scription of  this  country,  the  Bible  is  the  best  guide- 
book after  all,  and  in  many  ways.  In  no  one  way 
is  it  more  so  than  in  its  references  to  this  spot,  over 


THE    STAR  IN   THE  EAST. 


which  the  star  shone  and  the  angels  chanted  of 
peace.  No  amount  of  degeneracy,  superstition, 
tradition,  or  pollution,  no  surrounding,  however  dis- 
enchanting, detracts  one  beam  from  the  orient  radi- 
ance of  that  star,  or  gives  one  dissonant  note  in  the 
seraphic  hymning  which  here  filled  the  heavens  with 
a  new-born  joy  !  The  genius  of  painter  and  sculp- 
tor has  illustrated  the  story  of  the  manger,  with  its 
gifts  and  worship,  the  choir  of  angels,  the  awe- 
struck shepherds,  the  flight  into  Egypt,  the  beau- 
tiful face  of  the  Madonna,  with  its  golden  aureole, 
and  the  majestic,  masterful,  and  melancholy  fea- 
tures of  Him  who  became  here  the  genius  of  love 
unto  mankind.  What  place,  therefore,  in  all  this 
calcined  country,  now  so  many  centuries  made  des- 
olate, is  so  alluring  for  its  fruitful  themes,  whether 
for  studio  or  library,  for  the  orator  or  artist,  for  the 
disciple  or  crusader  ? 

Although  Bethlehem  was  called  "little  among  the 
thousands  of  Judah,"  and  at  a  time  when  Judah 
fed  her  thousands  of  thousands  from  her  well-tilled 
terraces  and  valleys,  she  is  great  among  men,  and 
will  be  great  so  long  as  her  story  remains.  How 
often  has  the  story  been  told  to  loving  hearers  ! 
From  the  little  Catholic  church  at  the  North  Cape, 
but  a  year  old,  which  we  visited  under  the  midnight 
sun  and  amid  the  summer  snows,  to  the  splendid 
church  of  St.  Sophia,  which  dates  fifteen  hundred 
years  ago  ;  across  wastes  of  time  and  oceans  of 
space,  over  dark  continents  and  isles  gilded  by  an 
oriental  summer,  this  story  of  the  manger  is  a 
theme  as  sacred  to  kings  as  to  peasants ;  as  dear 
to  the  leper  of  Ramleh  as  to  the  emperors  of  earth. 

The  locits  in  quo  of  such  a  story,  even  though  it 
were  almost  lost  in  tradition,  must  be  a  part,  the 


314 


FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 


first  act  indeed,  of  that  wondrous  drama.  Even  scep- 
tics cannot  ignore  the  fact  that  the  event  has,  as  the 
apostle  phrased  it,  "  turned  the  world  upside  down." 
Well  might  Gamaliel  say  that  this  work,  proceed- 
ing out  of  this  little  village,  if  it  were  of  men,  would 
come  to  naught ;  but  if  it  were  of  God,  could  not 
be  overthrown.  The  evidence  is  that  to-day  its  re- 
sults appear  in  civilizations  !  What  a  moral  and 
religious  work  has  been  accomplished  by  its  energy  ! 
Beginning  at  this  small  fountain,  what  a  fruitful 
spreading  stream  of  light  for  the  irradiation  of  the 
dark  problems  of  our  life  ! 

As  I  came  from  the  church  I  did  not  hear  the 
angels  above  chanting  the  millennial  dawn ;  but 
nevertheless  I  did  not  cease  to  believe  that  in  "this 
city  of  David  had  been  born  a  Saviour,  which  is 
Christ  the  Lord."  Nor  will  I  unto  my  last  moment 
believe  otherwise  than  that  for  this  advent — the 
greatest  upon  our  star — "  glory  should  be  given  to 
God  in  the  highest,"  and  that  out  of  it  shall  eventu- 
ally come  "  on  earth  peace,  good  will  to  men  ! " 

Forgetting  for  the  moment  that  we  are  from  the 
starless  land  of  the  unsetting  sun,  I  blessed  God  for 
the  stars — for  the  Star  of  Bethlehem  ;  for  rest  and 
hope  ;  for  Night ! 

What  but  night  can  give  this  comfort  ?  Contem- 
plations and  wonders,  far-reaching  thoughts  come 
to  us  with  the  night.  The  faintness  of  the  day 
ceases  with  the  night.  New  vigors  are  imparted  ; 
more  joys,  more  hopes,  less  grief,  less  hurry  and 
worry.  No  wonder  that  some  tribes  of  the  East 
worshiped  the  stars,  with  the  same  fervency  as 
those  who  worshiped  the  sun  !  Night  was  to  them 
all  opulent  and  thick  with  lustrous  beauty  and  un- 
fevered  salubrity.  It  was  not  like  the  day — the 


THE   STAR  IN   THE  EAST. 


315 


symbol  of  hate — garish,  full  of  infection  and  evil. 
Mystery  and  beauty — ever  inspiring  and  ever  re- 
newing. 

Tully  speculated  on  the  future  life  with  rapture ; 
Socrates  taught  that  we  live  hereafter;  Horace — 
epicurean  though  he  was — sang  that  "we  did  not 
all  die."  What  then  shall  be  said  of  the  authentic 
prospect  painted  by  Divine  Hand  of  that  eternal 
bliss,  when  we  emerge  from  the  tomb  to  join  the 
friends  we  love,  and  to  lose  ourselves  in  the  ecstasy 
of  an  assured  immortal  future?  This  hope  cometh 
from  the  Night — from  the  Star  of  Bethlehem  !  It 
has  in  it  the  flush  of  the  dawn  and  the  purity  of  its 
dew. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

THE  HOLY  PLACES    OF  CHRISTIANITY— OLIVET   AND 
BETHANY— THE   SCENE  OF   THE  ASCENSION. 

The  dew's  last  sparkle  from  the  grass  had  gone 
As  he  rode  up  Mount  Olivet.      The  woods 
Threw  their  cool  shadows  freshly  to  the  west, 
And  the  light  foal,  with  quick  and  toiling  step, 
And  head  bent  low,  kept  its  unslacken'd  -way 
Till  its  soft  mane  was  lifted  by  the  wind 
Sent  o'er  the  mount  from  Jordan.     As  he  reach 'd 
The  summit's  breezy  pitch,  the  Saviour  raised 
His  calm  blue  eyes — there  stood  Jerusalem  ! 
*****     How  fair  she  look'd — 
The  silver  sun  on  all  her  palaces, 
And  her  fair  daughters  'mid  the  golden  spires 
Tending  their  terrace  flowers,  and  Kedron's  stream 
Lacing  the  meadows  with  its  silver  band. 
And  wreathing  its  mist-mantle  on  the  sky 
With  the  morn's  exhalations. — N .  P.  WILLIS. 

A  RE  we  fresh  for  Olivet  this  afternoon?"  asks 
f\_  our  guide,  after  we  had  spent  the  best  of 
the  day  since  its  break  in  going  to,  seeing,  and  re- 
turning from  Bethlehem. 

Yes ;  and  by  three  we  are  upon  our  donkeys  and 
off.  There  must  be  secular  methods  about  sight- 
seeing, even  of  the  holiest  of  places.  Leaving  our 
hotel,  outside  the  Jaffa  gate,  we  take  the  path 
around  the  walls  eastward,  past  the  Damascus 
gate.  The  road,  if  it  be  one,  follows  the  walls  to 
their  north-east  corner,  near  St.  Stephen's  gate. 
There  we  descend  into  the  valley  of  Jehoshaphat. 
I  confess  that  ever  since  childhood,  either  owing 

316 


THE  HOLY  PLACES  OF  CHRISTIANITY, 


317 


to  the  rattling  of  the  dry  bones  in  Ezekiel's  vision, 
or  something  ghostly,  my  impression  of  this  valley 
was  of  the  sombre  kind.  It  changes  as  we  descend 
into  it  and  look  from  its  many-tombed  cemeteries. 
It  is  very  like  other  scenes  in  these  Eastern  lands. 
There  is  no  feeling  of  horror  ;  on  the  contrary,  we 
'are  quite  jocund  even  up  to  the  chapel  and  foun- 
tain of  the  Virgin's  tomb.  Even  the  grotto  of  the 
Agony  and  the  garden  of  Gethsemane  do  not  im- 
press with  melancholy.  Our  Arab  donkey  boys 
sing  their  roundelays  as  we  go  down,  across,  and 
up.  The  old  olives,  gnarled,  gray,  and  dusty, 
do  not  appal.  The  bells  of  the  convents  and 
churches  make  no  cheerless  music.  The  children, 
who  are  picking  fruit  from  the  olives,  have  the 
" flichterin'  naise  and  glee"  of  universal  childhood. 
The  Arabs  who  follow  us  with  antiquities,  old 
coins,  and  pottery  to  sell,  do  not  unnerve  us. 

We  have  passed  around  that  part  of  the  old,  or 
rather  the  newest  part  of  the  old  city,  Bezetha. 
Part  of  it  is  within  and  part  without  the  walls.  It 
is  here  that,  in  Herod's  day,  the  city  grew  beyond 
the  walls.  It  is  now  the  Mohammedan  quarter. 
We  are  passing  the  dry  bed  of  the  Kedron,  and 
are  in  the  valley  whose  name,  Jehoshaphat,  means 
the  judgment-seat  where  Jehovah  -will  judge  the 
heathen  for  their  treatment  of  the  Jews.  We  are 
opposite  the  site  of  the  temple.  Across  is  the 
place  of  Solomon's  throne  and  the  Golden  gate. 
We  are  called  on  to  descend  into  the  grotto.  It  is 
there  our  Saviour  is  said  to  have  been  betrayed. 
There  is  a  chapel  of  the  tomb  of  the  Virgin  here, 
and  it  is  very  old.  This  grotto  and  chapel  are  un- 
der the  charge  of  Franciscans. 

A  good  brother  joins  us  to  show  the  garden  of 


3l8  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

Gethsemane.  The  garden  is  inclosed  by  a  stone 
wall,  and  still  within  is  an  iron  railing,  which  in- 
closes the  very,  very  old  gray  olive-trees,  each  one 
a  picture.  Formerly  visitors  were  permitted  to  go 
beneath  the  sacred  trees  and  gather  souvenirs  from 
their  branches,  but  now  the  sprigs  of  the  old  trees 
are  collected  and  arranged  by  the  "  Sisters,"  and 
we  were  permitted  to  purchase  them,  exquisitely 
arranged. 

As  we  leave,  the  guide  informs  us  that  we  are 
pursuing  the  path  of  David,  "when  he  fled  from 
Absalom  and  went  over  the  brook  Kedron  toward 
the  way  of  the  wilderness."  He  went  up  by  Olivet, 
his  face  covered,  barefoot,  and  weeping.  Here  we 
commenced  the  ascent  of  Olivet.  Our  guide,  being 
on  foot,  makes  a  demonstration  quite  Oriental.  He 
meets  in  the  way  some  old  Bedouin  friends  from 
the  east  of  the  Jordan,  under  the  shadow  of  Moab. 
They  mutually  embrace  and  kiss  with  a  will  and 
fervor  quite  unusual  with  our  sex. 

"Who  are  they?"  I  ask. 

"  Some  robbers  ;  good  robbers,  if  you  pay  them 
honorably  ;  otherwise,  not.  They  belong  to  a  tribe 
whose  sheik  is  trustworthy  when  he  gives  his  word. 
I  have  employed  him  often  for  parties.  This  sheik 
has  killed  his  hundred  men,  and  is  proud  of  it.  He 
can  mount  fifty  thousand  men.  He  has  some  pretty 
daughters,  and  has  vowed  that  they  shall  marry  the 
men  who  kill  the  most.  The  Turkish  government 
can't  manage  him,  and  let  him  run ;  but  he  is  faith- 
ful when  his  word  is  out,  and  without  his  escort  no 
one  can  go  down  to  the  Dead  Sea.  If  they  do, 
they  are  dead,  sure." 

We  reach  the  summit  of  Olivet.  Leaving  for 
the  present  the  old  tower  on  the  left,  the  tombs  of 


THE  HOLY  PLACES  OF  CHRISTIANITY. 


319 


the  prophets  on  the  right,  and  "ruins"  near  the 
brow  of  the  mountain,  we  go  to  the  old,  crowning 
mosque.  There  is  a  sheik  here,  too.  He  is  in 
command,  and  levies  his  tribute.  They  all  do.  Near 
is  a  church  to  commemorate  the  ascension.  After 
our  guide  has  embraced  and  kissed  this  sheik  also, 
we  mount  the  dark,  winding  stairs  of  this  minaret. 
It  is  called  Tur.  The  wind  blows  quite  cool.  The 
view  on  every  point  is  superb.  It  is  the  finest  pros- 
pect about  Jerusalem.  As  it  is  seen  from  every  part 
of  the  city ;  so  from  it  all  the  prominent  objects 
are  visible.  Below  us  immediately  are  the  trim  ter- 
races where  corn  is  sometimes  raised  on  ledges  of 
rock  ;  but  the  olive-trees  are  not  plentiful,  but  spo- 
radic. There  are  enough  of  them,  even  unto  this 
day,  to  vindicate  the  name  of  Olivet.  There  is  a 
clear  sky.  No  haze  obscures  the  sight.  The  mount- 
ain is  a  ridge,  and  rises  above  Mount  Moriah  some 
two  hundred  and  twenty  feet.  The  walls  of  the 
city  and  octagonal  mosque  on  the  temple's  site,  and 
a  few  cypresses  and  the  dark  dome,  seem  under  us, 
though  across  the  deep  ravine.  Here  Jerusalem 
with  its  churches  and  holy  places  is  indeed  "  golden  " 
Jerusalem.  From  St.  Stephen's  to  the  Golden 
gate,  and  from  the  Golden  gate  to  the  south-east 
corner,  the  magnificence  of  the  eastern  walls  is  ap- 
preciated in  all  their  beauty  and  strength.  We  can- 
not see  the  tombs  on  the  hither  side  of  the  valley 
of  Jehoshaphat,  nor  the  multitude  of  flat  Jewish 
gravestones  awaiting  removal  when  the  dry  bones 
of  Ezekiel  shall  rattle  for  the  judgment ;  but  the 
massive  masonry  of  the  old  walls  shows  grandly, 
although  one  hundred  feet  of  it  is  still  concealed 
by  piles  of  rubbish. 

The  city,  in  its  four  elevations,  with  their  angles 


320 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


and  gardens,  towers  and  domes,  stands  out  and  up 
in  its  lights  and  shades.  Wrap  your  coat  about 
you,  for  it  is  cold  on  the  minaret,  and  take  your 
glass  for  the  far-off  eastern  view.  Not  yet — wait ! 
Below  you,  to  the  east,  is  the  beginning  of  that 
"wilderness  of  Judea,"  which  no  one  who  ever 
saw  the  Sahara  around  Damascus  can  mistake  for 
a  smiling  land.  Over  white,  hot  hills,  and  over 
gray,  verdureless  vales,  in  involutions  and  convo- 
lutions, and  swathed  in  shimmering  sunshine,  the 
bleak  landscape  descends  for  miles,  until  it  melts 
into  the  valley  of  the  Jordan,  whose  course  can  be 
traced  by  its  zone  of  greenery.  The  glare  is  not 
too  great  in  mid-afternoon  to  see  the  line  of  the 
valley  or  the  dark  line  of  the  river  as  it  enters  the 
stark,  still  Dead  Sea,  a  portion  of  which,  like  a 
bluish  cadaver  in  an  immense  sarcophagus,  is  dis- 
covered betwen  the  brown  hills  and  cliffs  of  the 
intervening  wilderness  and  the  range  on  the  hori- 
zon's verge.  A  few  olives  break  the  sameness  of 
the  color  till  the  pale  azure  of  the  Dead  Sea  is 
reached  by  the  vision.  It  lies  over  thirteen  hun- 
dred feet  below  the  tideless  Mediterranean,  and 
double  that  below  the  Mount  of  Olives,  from  which 
we  observe  it.  Above  it  is  a  massive  wall,  so  re- 
mote as  to  seem  like  an  exhalation,  and  yet  so 
near  that  its  shadows  and  ridges  appear.  These 
mountains  are  fifty  miles  away.  They  are  the  ever- 
beauteous  mountains  of  Moab. 

Our  guide  tells  us  stories  of  his  capture  in  these 
mountains  and  his  release.  He  has  still  an  abiding 
faith  in  the  Bedouins  who  took  him ;  and,  being  a 
"  well-spoken  man  "  in  Arabic,  and  knowing  human 
nature  "down  East"  in  the  States  of  Maine  and 
Moab,  he  is  preferred  in  many  ways  by  all  except 


THE  HOLY  PLACES  OF  CHRISTIANITY. 


321 


those  who  are  now  endeavoring  to  monopolize  the 
travel  in  Judea.  We  notice  that  in  our  expeditions, 
where  the  good-will  of  the  sheiks  is  required,  Mr. 
Floyd,  the  guide,  is  at  home  with  them.  We  met 
the  one  hundred  and  ten  Spanish  pilgrims — three- 
fourths  priests,  in  black,  wide-brim  hats  and  long 
robes.  Ever  since  they  have  been  in  Jerusalem 
these  pilgrims  have  been  on  our  track  or  we  on 
theirs. 

When  we  enter  into  the  mosque  and  church  of 
the  "Ascension,"  the  Spanish  company,  for  once, 
are  in  advance.  They  are  kneeling  in  prayer.  The 
slab  is  shown  which  has  the  impress  of  the  Saviour's 
foot  on  his  ascent  into  heaven.  All  kiss  the  stone 
fervently.  Many  pass  their  rosaries  over  it,  and 
the  last  pilgrim,  a  devoted  woman  in  black,  touches 
it  with  her  sleeves,  shawl,  veil,  dress,  and  all  she 
wears  and  has  on  that  would  reach  the  sacred  place. 
Soon  the  trumpet  of  the  Spanish  guide  sounds 
without,  and  the  Spanish  host  rallies  to  the  sound 
for  a  new  crusade  upon  other  holy  places. 

I  have  not  discussed  any  of  the  mooted  points 
about  these  holy  spots  ;  but  it  seems  to  me,  without 
going  beyond  the  New  Testament,  that  it  is  very 
clear  that  the  ascension  was  not  from  the  Mount  of 
Olives.  The  verses  in  Luke  xxiv.  have  this  most 
explicit  statement : 

"  And  he  led  them  out  as  far  as  to  Bethany,  and  he  lifted  up  his 
hands  and  blessed  them.  And  it  came  to  pass,  while  he  blessed 
them,  he  was  parted  from  them,  and  carried  up  into  heaven.  And 
they  worshiped  him,  and  returned  to  Jerusalem  with  great  joy." 

In  the  first  chapter  of  Acts  there  is  another 
description,  but  it  is  indefinite  as  to  the  precise 
place.  Unless  it  be  corrected  in  the  "revision,"  it 


322 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


is  misleading,  as  it  says  that  after  the  ascension  the 
apostles  "returned  unto  Jerusalem  from  the  mount 
called  Olivet,  which  is  from  Jerusalem  a  Sabbath- 
day's  journey."  The  truth  is,  that  Olivet  is  not  a 
half  hour's  walk,  and  even  if  the  ascension  were  at 
Bethany,  which  is  beyond  Olivet,  it  is  not  an  hour 
away.  But  whatever  be  the  fact,  Olivet  is  holy 
ground.  It  was  chosen  by  the  Saviour  for  his 
most  confiding  utterances.  Was  it  not  here  that 
he  talked  of  what  would  befall  Jerusalem,  his  dis- 
ciples, and  himself  ?  Was  it  not  here  that  he 
spoke  some  of  the  wisest  parables,  and  prayed  and 
rested  at  evening,  after  the  moil  and  toil  of  the  city 
and  the  day  ?  Was  it  not  here  that  he  agonized, 
and  gave  up  his  own  to  do  his  Father's  will  ?  If 
his  ascension  was  at  Bethany,  certainly  he  passed 
— even  as  we  are  now  passing — over  Olivet  to 
reach  Bethany. 

On  the  summit  of  Olivet  we  find  a  newly-built 
cloister  for  nuns.  It  is  built  by  a  French  princess, 
Mme.  Latour  d'Auvergne,  and  is  to  be  eventually 
her  tomb.  It  is  said  to  be  the  spot  where  our 
Saviour  taught  his  disciples  to  pray.  In  the  inner 
court  of  the  cloister  is  arranged  on  tile  tablets  the 
Lord's  Prayer  in  thirty-three  languages.  As  we 
enter,  our  Spanish  pilgrims  crowd  the  court  and 
surround  the  tomb  of  the  princess.  A  life-size 
figure  in  white  marble  lies  at  full  length  over  the 
sarcophagus,  and  is  said  to  be  a  good  likeness. 
The  face  and  figure  are  those  of  a  beautiful 
woman,  mute  and  angelic  in  death.  Sweet  laven- 
der and  other  flowers  ornament  the  garden,  and 
give  their  aroma  to  the  shaded  walks,  and  all  is  in 
neat  and  dainty  contrast  with  the  dirt  and  sloven- 
liness of  the  city.  The  princess  is  absent  now  on 


THE  HOLY  PLACES  OF  CHRISTIANITY. 


323 


a  visit  to  France,  her  native  country,  but  her  work- 
men are  perfecting  her  future  mausoleum. 

Before  we  leave  Mount  Olivet,  our  guide  would 
fain  have  my  wife  go  into  the  sheik's  house,  near 
the  mosque.  "  Be  careful  that  his  seven  wives 
steal  nothing,"  was  his  admonition. 

As  evening  is  coming  on,  we  hasten  toward  Beth- 
any. There  is  evidence  of  a  Roman  road  here.  The 
rocks  are  solid,  but  worn  with  old  chariot  wheels, 
ancl  by  time  and  travel.  Many  Arabs  live  amid 
the  hovels  and  caves  in  by-places,  and  come  out 
upon  us  unexpectedly.  Pursuing  our  way,  Beth- 
any soon  appears  down  and  around  the  mountain, 
almost  hid  in  a  nook.  Some  cultivation  appears. 
Dusty  fig-trees  are  seen  over  rocky  fields,  once 
terraced,  fruitful,  and  beautiful.  Bethany  means 
"  house  of  dates."  Palms  grow  here ;  for  was  it 
not  from  this  place  that  Christ  entered  the  city  in 
triumph  ?  The  Arabic  name  of  Bethany  is  Laza- 
rus. It  is  made  of  old  houses.  Along  the  way 
we  find  dumb  monuments,  in  the  shape  of  trimmed 
stones  and  fluted  pillars,  which  had  once  some 
structural  dignity.  Lazarus  lived  here,  and  his  sis- 
ters Mary  and  Martha.  Here  Jesus  often  slept, 
and  here  Lazarus  was  raised  from  the  dead. 

Here  was  the  home  life  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour. 

It  is  almost  a  domestic  thought,  this  association 
with  Bethany : 

"  Come,  let  us  leave  these  noisy  streets,  and  take 
The  path  to  Bethany  ;  for  Mary's  smile 
Awaits  us  at  the  gate,  and  Martha's  hands 
Have  long  prepared  the  cheerful  evening  meal." 

The  localities  are  pointed  out,  with  painful,  be- 
cause doubtful,  particularity.  Even  the  tomb  of 


324 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


Lazarus  is  shown,  and  the  debris  of  the  house  where 
the  sisters  lived.  The  appearances  do  not  confirm 
the  tradition.  The  people  look  seedy  and  dis- 
tressed, and  we  leave  the  old  place,  desiring  to  have 
only  the  memories  with  which  it  is  bedewed  by  the 
gospel  narratives.  We  turn  our  faces  Zionward 
by  another  road.  Evening  is  beginning  to  draw 
its  veil.  A  few  pink  clouds,  with  the  cool  breath 
of  autumn,  fill  the  air.  We  remember  that  on  this 
path  Jesus  made  his  entry  into  Jerusalem,  and  that 
there  were  eager  multitudes  awaiting  his  triumphant 
coming  after  the  miracle  of  Lazarus,  filled  with  the 
religious  fervor  of  the  Passover. 

We  are  startled  from  the  deep  hush  which  prevails, 
and  from  the  solemn  thoughts  which  it  inspires,  by 
a  hail  in  Arabic  from  another  company  of  the  wild- 
est Bedouins.  Their  faces  are  sinister  in  the  gloam- 
ing. Our  guide  responds,  and  again  there  are  em- 
braces and  kisses. 

"  These,  too,"  says  the  guide,  "  are  no  better 
than  the  Jericho  thieves  you  read  of.  They  belong 
to  Jericho,  and  are  on  their  way  home,  and  they 
will  steal  anything,  unless  they  have  given  their 
pledge." 

We  look  at  their  long  guns,  and  knives  in  their 
belts,  and  the  loneliness  of  our  situation,  and  feel 
relieved  at  the  entente  cordiale  between  them  and 
our  guard.  As  we  see  them  depart  down  amidst 
the  rocky  declivity,  the  moon  comes  out  over  the 
distant  Jordan,  and  just  then  the  sun  departs  with 
its  last  lingering  light.  The  very  caves,  and  the 
tombs  in  the  solid  rock,  and  the  grandeur  of  the 
Mount  of  Olives  make  the  scene  weird;  and  the 
memories  of  the  past,  with  its  city  of  Zion,  once  the 
"joy  of  the  whole  earth,"  and  so  gorgeous  in  gates, 


TOMB   OF  ABSALOM,   VALLEY  OF  JEHOSOPHAT. 


THE    HOLY  PLACES  OF  CHRISTIANITY. 


325 


palaces,  and  temples,  and  over  whose  future  deso- 
lation and  woe  Christ  here  wept  because  of  its  un- 
belief and  ignorance,  leave  an  impression  none  the 
less  emphatic,  tender,  and  melancholy,  because  from 
this  point  he  gave  his  last  directions  to  his  disciples, 
before  the  "  cloud  received  him  from  their  sight !  " 

In  descending  into  the  valley  again,  we  pass  Ab- 
salom's tomb  and  others,  including  that  of  St.  James. 
They  are  cut  in  the  rocks,  and  look  like  temples, 
with  rounded  columns  of  alabaster,  in  the  moon- 
light. Even  from  the  shadowy  valley  of  Ezekiel's 
vision  the  walls  of  the  city  are  silvered  into  new 
beauty.  We  look  up  and  realize  how  high  they 
are,  and  why  the  besiegers  preferred  their  attack 
upon  other  points  than  this.  Yet  there,  now  hid 
by  the  rubbish  of  ages,  once  arose  the  steps  which 
led  by  the  Golden  gate  to  the  temple  and  city. 
.  Passing  under  the  shadow  of  Gethsemane,  we  can- 
not enter  by  this  gate.  It  is  the  one  by  which 
Christ  entered  in  triumph.  It  is  sealed  now,  and 
the  moraine  of  the  wear  of  centuries  also  conceals 
what  may  remain  of  its  ruins.  We  enter  by  St. 
Stephen's  gate,  whose  two  lions,  cut  in  the  stone 
in  bas-relief,  look  down  quaintly  on  either  side  of 
the  archway.  We  enter  St.  Stephen's  gate,  to 
pass  through  and  return,  as  our  route  takes  us 
round  the  wall  by  the  path  we  came.  It  is  upon 
the  east.  It  lies  in  the  shadow.  It  is  sepulchral 
and  gloomy,  and  but  one  sound  besides  that  of  the 
donkey-boys  urging  the  animals  disturbs  the  still- 
ness. It  is  the  voice  of  an  owl,  hooting  as  mourn- 
fully as  a  poor  whip-poor-will,  as  we  pass  the  grotto 
of  Jeremiah. 

On  our  return  to  the  hotel  we  meet  at  dinner  our 
accomplished  consul,  Colonel  Wilson,  and  talk  over 


326  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

the  sadness  at  home  growing  out  of  the  President's 
demise.  The  day  has  been  one  most  eventful,  but 
it  is  the  more  memorable  because  upon  it  seemed 
to  hang,  in  spite  of  orient  sunbeams  and  moon- 
beams, a  shroud  of  woe,  and  around  the  city  there 
seemed  to  stalk  the  very  spectre  of  despair. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

THE  HOLY  PLACES  OF  CHRISTIANITY— A  SUNDAY  IN  JERU- 
SALEM—TOMB OF  DAVID  — THE  CRUCIFIXION  AND 
SEPULCHRE. 

Speak,  history  !     WJio  are  life's  -victors  ?    Unroll  thy  long  annals 

and  say — 
Are  they  those  -whom    the  -world  called  the  victors,  who  won  the 

success  of  the  day  ? 
The  martyrs  or  Neros  ?     The  Spartans   who  fell  at    Thermopy- 

Ices  tryst, 
Or  the  Persians   and  Xerxes  ?    His  judges  or  Socrates  ?    Pilate 

or  Christ?  — W.  W.  STORY. 

IT  is  past  the  middle  of  October,  and  our  excur- 
sions partake  of  the  coolness  of  the  heights 
and  the  season.  We  give  to  them  a  half  day  each  ; 
but  how  much  is  compressed  in  these  two  halves  ! 
They  require  that  we  should  be  up  early  and  come 
home  after  nightfall.  The  mornings  and  evenings 
are  cool,  and  even  the  midday  is  not  too  hot.  As 
fall  approaches,  the  breeze  blows  its  salutary  com- 
fort, and  although  we  have  no  rain,  and  have  had 
none  since  we  left  Norway,  in  July,  it  is  not  un- 
pleasantly dusty.  The  donkey  is  the  charm  of  these 
excursions.  He  is  a  relief  and  a  comfort.  Besides, 
he  is  safe,  and  with  the  aid  of  the  guide  on  foot 
and  the  two  donkey-boys  in  the  rear,  he  is  suffi- 
ciently prodded  to  his  duty.  We  should  gladly 
have  gone  to  church  to-day,  but  it  is  our  only  day 
to  see  the  Mosque  of  Omar  and  the  site  of  the 
temple.  To  omit  these  is  to  omit  Jerusalem  from 
the  programme  of  Judea. 

327 


328 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID, 


On  our  way  we  stop  at  the  Armenian  convent. 
It  is  near  the  Jaffa  gate,  and  the  street  to  it,  though 
like  all  the  rest  in  narrowness,  is  exceptionally  clean. 
In  fact,  the  Armenians  of  Jerusalem,  though  few 
in  number,  are  rich  in  purse  and  in  charities.  The 
Armenian  church  is  called  "St.  James,"  and  as  a 
representative  of  "St.  James"  in  the  old  Seventh 
Ward,  with  its  five  thousand  parishioners,  I  felt 
bound,  after  seeing  his  mausoleum  in  the  valley  of 
Kedron,  to  look  upon  the  place  of  his  martyrdom, 
and  the  methods  of  worship  under  the  auspices  of 
that  most  moderate,  just,  and  wise  disciple. 

We  dismount  in  front  of  the  church.  Over  the 
walls  opposite,  and  in  the  court,  large  tamarisk  and 
pine  trees  give  their  cool  shade ;  birds,  rara  airs 
here,  fly  and  twitter ;  while  the  bells  from  the  Rus- 
sian quarter,  outside  the  walls,  call  to  prayer  upon 
this  sweet  Sabbath  morning.  While  waiting  for 
the  custodian,  we  examine  the  plants  which  cling 
to  the  old  walls  and  the  Arabic  arches  of  the  large 
edifice ;  but  cannot  admire  the  poor  daubs  of  pic- 
tures at  the  door  and  in  the  vestibule.  Some  Ar- 
menian characters,  likely  the  Lord's  Prayer,  are 
written  over  the  archway — a  common  usage  in  the 
East.  Standing  under  the  porch  are  solid  boards 
of  wood  and  pieces  of  metal,  which,  when  struck, 
answer  for  bells !  The  stones  of  the  pave  are 
worn  glossy  by  time  and  pilgrims. 

This  convent  was  founded  more  than  eight  hun- 
dred years  ago  by  Georgians.  The  Turks  taxed  it 
heavily,  and  the  richer  Armenian  Christians  bought 
it  in  three  hundred  years  ago.  Next  to  that  of 
the  Holy  Sepulchre,  this  is  the  largest  church  in 
the  city.  The  Armenian  school  is  here,  and  we 
hear  the  buzz  of  the  scholars  reciting  their  Sunday 


VISITING  HOLY  PLACES. 


329 


lessons  as  we  await  the  appearance  of  the  warder 
with  the  church  key.  He  does  not  come,  and  we 
are  disappointed,  not  because  we  fail  to  see  the 
rich  vestments  or  the  extravagant  pictures  which 
the  church  contains,  for  these  are  said  to  be  so 
tawdry  and  highly  colored  as  to  be  barbaric ;  for 
it  must  be  recollected  that  Armenians  are  Asiatics. 
But  we  did  want  to  bear  home  to  friends  a  mental 
photograph  of  the  chair  of  St.  James,  which  is 
here  preserved.  We  content  ourselves  with  going 
into  the  convent  and  through  its  corridors.  With- 
in its  vaulted  and  capacious  rooms  there  is  an 
extensive  printing  establishment.  It  is  under  the 
control  of  the  Armenian  patriarch,  who  lives  on 
the  premises.  We  were  allowed  to  go  upon  the 
flat  and  stony  roof  of  the  convent.  From  it  we  look 
down  on  the  barracks  and  castle  upon  the  north, 
and  over  the  exquisite  gardens  of  the  convent  on 
the  south,  and  to  the  east — for  we  are  in  the  very 
midst  of  Mount  Zion  proper — we  look  at  the  other 
mounts  which  make  Jerusalem  so  celebrated,  but 
whose  elevations  are  not  so  apparent,  owing  to  the 
masses  of  building.  On  one  especially,  crowned 
with  the  dome  of  the  sepulchre,  we  look,  for  it  is 
proudly  eminent. 

Upon  these  roofs,  under  which  three  thousand 
pilgrims  can  be  accommodated,  are  many  conven- 
iences. We  see  an  Arab  servant  drawing  water 
from  a  well  on  the  roof  ;  he  is  filling  his  goat-skins. 
We  look  at  him  curiously,  as  he  is  using  a  small 
skin  funnel  to  fill  his  quaint  sack.  Would  you  be- 
lieve it?  He  asks  us  for  " backsheesh " for  looking 
at  the  operation  !  "Attend  to  that  at  sunset,"  says 
the  guide.  He  responds  in  Arabic,  "  Morning  is 
better."  , 


330  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

This  was  a  reflection  on  my  pet  name,  which  I 
resented  by  withholding  my  piastres.  Grape-vines 
grow  about  on  the  roofs  and  out  of  the  very  walls 
in  the  courts  below.  Jessamine  festoons  the  angles. 
We  are  reluctant  to  leave  so  exceptional  a  street 
and  quarter.  Its  neatness  is  fascinating. 

As  we  pass  into  the  streets  out  of  Zion  gate, 
at  the  south-west  corner  of  the  walls,  we  meet  a 
company  of  Circassians.  They  are  Turkish  sol- 
diers, and  in  the.  peculiar  uniform  which  we  saw  in 
Russia,  with  their  shining  metallic  cartridges  on 
their  breasts.  "  A  murdering  crew,"  says  the  guide, 
as  we  pass  the  hirsute  group.  They  look  it. 

Those  familiar  with  these  ways  of  Jerusalem,  in 
and  out  of  the  walls,  will  anticipate  why  we  leave 
by  the  Zion  gate.  Upon  an  eminence  on  the  ex- 
treme south  end  of  the  city  is  David's  tomb.  It 
overlooks  the  lower  parts  of  the  city,  and  is  as  well 
authenticated  as  most  of  the  main  objects  of  the 
city.  There  has  been  much  logomachy  and  demon- 
stration as  to  this  and  other  spots  for  the  royal 
tombs,  but  it  is  generally  thought  that  David's  tomb 
was  on  Zion,  and  above  the  valley  of  Hinnom.  Cer- 
tain it  is  that  when  Peter  spoke  as  to  David  he  said 
that  his  "sepulchre  was  with  us  unto  this  day." 
Certain,  also,  it  is  that  Solomon,  when  he  buried 
David,  placed  treasures  in  the  tomb,  a  great  temp- 
tation for  its  rifling,  and  it  is  equally  certain  that 
others  besides  Herod  were  guilty  of  the  sacrilege. 
All  these  tombs  of  royalty  were  hewn  out  of  the 
solid  rock,  and,  eliminating  all  the  legends,  we  come 
to  the  solid  fact  that  among  the  groups  of  tombs 
in  these  valleys  and  hills,  none  are  so  imposing  as 
those  alleged  to  belong  to  the  kings  David  and 
Solomon.  None  have  been,  or  are  now,  guarded  so 


VISITING  HOLY  PLACES. 


331 


sedulously.  Only  one  person  not  a  Moslem  has 
seen  them.  This  was  Miss  Barclay,  daughter  of 
the  author  of  the  "  City  of  the  Great  King,"  who, 
for  the  services  of  her  father,  a  physician,  in  curing 
a  pasha,  was  allowed  to  go  down  and  see  them. 
The  account  of  what  she  saw,  "  is  it  not  written," 
says  our  guide,  "  on  the  two  hundred  and  twelfth 
page  of  her  father's  book  ?  " 

We  are  not  allowed  to  go  into  the  tombs,  but 
only  into  the  temple  over  them.  We  look  through 
a  grille,  and  see  old,  moth-eaten,  and  ragged  mantles, 
red  and  blue,  covering  something.  They  are  made 
like  the  tombs  of  the  Sultans  and  Caliphs.  A  large 
coffin  is  placed  over  the  tombs,  which  are  in  the 
rock  or  earth  below.  This  outer  covering  is  all  we 
see,  and  for  it  we  pay  quite  a  sum,  which  leads  to 
a  fight  between  the  sheik's  son  and  another  attend- 
ant. This  fight  for  the  spoils  about  this  abode  of 
the  royal  dead  is  lacking  in  decency  as  well  as  in 
pluck.  No  blows  are  given — only  a  choke,  a  pull 
of  the  hair,  a  collection  of  saliva  and  a  spiteful  spit 
at  the  enemy,  some  clawing  out,  and  only  one  bel- 
ligerent at  it  at  a  time.  This  is  the  general  Arabic 
way  of  settling  controversies  too  complicated  for 
their  jabber.  It  is  the  anticlimax  of  the  desperate 
fight  described  in  the  verse  : 

"  So  frowned  the  mighty  combatants,  that  hell 
Grew  darker  at  their  frown,  so  matched  they  stood." 

Once  a  year  the  Catholics  are  allowed  to  worship 
in  this  temple.  Why?  Not  because  of  David, 
but  because  here  is  the  "upper room,"  as  is  alleged, 
of  the  Lord's  Supper.  It  is  to  this  tomb  that  Peter 
is  supposed  to  refer  in  his  oration  related  in  the 
second  of  Acts.  "'•  . 


2^2  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

The  Arabs  think  more  of  David  than  of  Solomon  ; 
but  they  hold  both  in  such  esteem  that  they  desire 
a  monopoly  of  their  bodies.  As  we  pass  out  of 
the  court  of  this  mosque,  tomb,  or  temple,  four 
camels  crowd  us  closely.  They  are  bringing  in 
charcoal — and  of  such  is  the  glory  of  Solomon  ! 

Returning  then  to  Zion's  gate,  we  find  a  colored 
brother  and  a  brown  Arab  boy  playing  cards.  There 
is  quite  a  throng  at  this  gate.  We  are  stopped, 
and  have  time  to  note  that  it  is  tricked  out  in  places 
with  gaudy  paint.  Its  pillars  are  daubed  red  and 
green.  Our  donkey-boy  gets  into  a  melee  with  a 
crowd  of  laggard  donkeys  and  horses  and  their 
drivers.  He  let  his  stick  have  full  play  on  other 
people's  beasts,  and  his  tongue  on  the  people. 
"What  does  the  young  Arab  say  ?"  I  inquire  of  the 
guide.  "It  is  an  expression  here,  'Why  don't  you 
go  on  like  people  ! ' '  Sure  enough,  my  young  tur- 
ban, why  not  ? 

Then  we  go  to  the  door  where  Peter  knocked, 
when  the  little  maiden,  Rhoda,  came,  and  running 
back  announced  to  the  friends  his  enlargement 
from  prison.  The  Syrians  have  this  church.  It 
has  curious  green  gates  and  crosses.  We  go  through 
the  Jewish  quarter,  into  the  old  Syrian  church,  with 
its  sounding  boards  as  bells  also,  and  pass  down 
David's  street.  I  am  attracted  by  a  sign,  "  Photo- 
graphs by  Nicodemus."  What  an  anachronism ! 
What  gaps  of  centuries  between  Nicodemus  and 
this  new  art,  never  dreamed  of  by  Hebrew  or  Greek. 
It  being  Sunday,  we  meet  many  Germans  coming 
from  the  Lutheran  church  ;  for  let  it  be  known  that 
there  are  some  Protestants  in  Jerusalem.  The 
cheery,  cherry  faces  and  bright  blue  eyes  of  this 
race  are  in  radiant  contrast  with  the  sallow  and 


VISITING  HOLY  PLACES. 


333 


bronzed  features  one  meets  here  at  every  step. 
How  well  dressed  they  are — men,  women,  and 
children  !  They  are  of  the  German  colony.  The 
German  consul,  who  lives  at  our  hotel,  tells  me 
that  there  are  over  one  thousand  five  hundred  Ger- 
mans in  Judea.  They  worship  here  on  the  old  site 
of  the  Temple  of  the  Knights  of  St.  John.  The* 
grounds  and  ruins  are  adjacent  on  the  south  to  the 
Church  of  the  Sepulchre.  They  were  made  a  pres- 
ent to  Prussia  in  1869  by  the  Sultan.  The  old 
church  is  being  excavated,  as  for  fifty  feet  the  rub- 
bish covered  its  arches  and  walls.  There  has  been 
much  work  done,  but  one-third  only  of  the  excava- 
tions are  completed.  The  walls  are  already  dressed 
in  vines.  Going  up  amid  the  antique  cloisters  of  the 
famous  knights,  we  see  upon  what  "heaps"  Jerusa- 
lem, as  now  known,  reposes.  We  look  into  a  hole 
fifty  feet  deep.  Down  in  its  darkness  we  see  the 
old  street  ways  of  Jerusalem  in  the  crusader  days  ! 
Enough  stone  has  been  taken  out  and  piled  up  to 
build  the  new  church  which  is  being  erected.  Some 
of  the  old  arches  are  elegant  in  shape,  and  keyed 
with  a  skill  that  defies  destruction.  In  the  courts 
up  the  stairs — whither  we  are  guided  by  a  tall  Nu- 
bian in  white  burnous — there  is  much  taste  in  the 
growth  and  arrangement  of  the  flowers,  for  the  sun 
shines  in  upon  the  cool  balconies.  We  enter  the 
vaulted  chapel,  once  occupied  by  the  knights.  It 
has  its  lace-covered  altar,  embroidered  chancel,  pol- 
ished wooden  pews,  Maltese  crosses,  baptismal  font, 
and  plain  .pulpit,  recalling  the  anomaly  of  Luther- 
anism  in  the  grand  old  Catholic  cathedrals  of  Scan- 
dinavia. We  look  for  the  blackboard,  with  chapter 
and  verse  and  number  of  the  Psalm  for  Sunday. 
These  are  not  here,  but  the  Bible,  hymn,  and  prayer- 


334 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


book  are.  We  open  the  last.  "  Herr,  hore  meine 
worte,"  is  the  first  line  of  the  hymn  we  see.  Were 
we  Teutonic  now — but  this  is  no  place  for  singing 
psalms,  for,  as  I  listen,  the  murmur  of  loud  voices 
pierces  the  wall  from  the  noisy  street.  It  is  not 
Sunday  for  the  Arab.  We  hear  him  in  the  bazaars 
below,  measuring  grain  and  counting  its  prices. 
There  is  a  "  corner  "  in  grain  even  here,  judging  by 
the  Sunday  racket.  Excuse  these  details  as  to  this 
extraordinary  illustration  of  the  vicissitudes  of  time. 
Here  is  this  fair-haired  race,  whom  we  meet  from 
Castle  Garden  to  Holland,  and  from  Hamburg  to 
Hammerfest,  under  Providence,  resuming  peace- 
fully the  old  cloisters  of  the  crusader.  Preparation 
is  already  made  for  their  religious  devotion,  and  a 
Prussian  hospice  is  provided  for  all  who  need  its 
care.  Even  a  descendant  of  the  Sultans  clears  the 
way  by  a  notable  gift  for  the  Teutonic  immigration 
into  the  heart  of  Jerusalem  ! 

We  had  already  made  one  hurried  visit  to  the 
Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre.  As  this  is  the 
Sabbath-day,  we  keep  it  holy  by  renewing  our 
visit.  Here  are  seen  Golgotha,  Calvary,  the  tomb, 
and  other  unmistakable  memorials  of  the  Saviour. 
Each  spot,  however  apocryphal,  is  of  moment. 
Hundreds  upon  hundreds  of  years,  good  men, 
kings  and  scholars,  soldiers  and  priests,  have  re- 
garded them  as  authentic.  From  the  street  we 
descend  by  a  flight  of  steps  into  a  paved  court. 
Here  are  columns  in  rows,  and  chapels  abound— 
Greek,  Latin,  and  Armenian.  This  is  the  entrance. 
A  Romanesque  facade  is  upon  the  north  side  of 
the  court,  with  sculptured  illustrations  of  our 
Saviour's  life.  We  enter  the  south  transept,  which 
looks  like  a  vestibule.  Here  is  the  stone  of  unc- 


THE   HOLY   SEPULCHRE. 


VISITING  HOLY  PLACES. 


335 


tion.  It  is  a  large,  red  and  yellowish  slab  of  mar- 
ble, inclosed  in  a  railing,  directly  fronting  the 
entrance.  It  is  adorned  with  suspended  lamps. 
This  is  the  spot  where  the  body  of  Jesus  was 
anointed.  We  pass  into  the  divisions  of  the 
church,  and  enter  under  the  dome  of  the  sepul- 
chre itself.  The  dome  is  blue,  and  spangled  with 
golden  stars.  Over  the  tomb  is  a  canopy  of  red- 
dish marble.  It  seems  old  and  worn.  The  pave- 
ment is  glossy  and  slippery.  On  either  side  of  the 
canopy  are  two  large  round  holes,  used  for  the 
holy  fire-miracle  by  the  Greeks,  who  have  its  mo- 
nopoly. The  Catholics  discountenance  it,  and 
very  properly. 

Every  volume  on  Jerusalem  has  its  chapters 
descriptive  of  this  edifice.  It  has  played  a  great 
part  in  history,  from  the  time  of  Constantine, 
whose  mother,  Helena,  inaugurated  the  investiga- 
tions for  its  verification,  and  that  of  its  sacred 
rocks.  Whether  Golgotha,  Calvary,  and  the  tcmb 
should  be  here  located  or  not,  has  been  a  theme 
for  quarto  on  folio  of  controversy.  Whatever  may 
be  the  merits  of  the  question,  this  spot  has  had, 
since  the  early  centuries,  the  favorable  verdict. 
All  now  seem  to  acquiesce  in  the  decision.  Our 
consul,  Col.  Wilson,  has  made  an  exhaustive  study 
of  the  question,  and  has  confirmed  the  general 
sentiment,  which  is  the  opinion  of  Drs.  Robinson 
and  Prime.  Let  us  not  quarrel  as  to  the  precise 
spots  of  the  crucifixion,  the  rent  rock,  and  the 
anointing  of  the  body ;  the  apparition  to  Mary 
after  the  resurrection  ;  the  seat  of  St.  Helena,  and 
the  place  of  finding  the  cross  under  her  superin- 
tendence ;  the  spot  where  He  was  crowned  with 
thorns ;  the  rock  of  Golgotha,  or  the  tombs  of  the 


336  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

crusading  kings  of  Jerusalem.  Whatever  may  be 
their  topography  or  history,  it  is  known  that  He 
was  crucified  near  by,  and  here  He  was  entombed. 
Let  others,  who  are  critical  and  cynical,  dispute  to 
their  hearts'  or  heads'  content.  It  is  enough  that 
the  powers  and  learning  of  the  earth  have  fixed 
upon  this  as  the  holiest  of  places.  Here,  too,  have 
they  fought,  and  are  ready  to  fight  again,  for  its 
vindication  as  the  holy  of  holies  ! 

To  avert  these  contests,  of  which  the  Crusades 
are  a  sample  a  thousand  years  ago,  and  the  Cri- 
mean war  the  more  recent'  one,  and  that  Christ's 
disciples  of  every  rite  should  dwell  and  worship  in 
some  unity  under  this  dome,  there  has  been  much 
diplomacy ;  and  to  reconcile  jarring  Christians, 
much  tact  and  some  show  of  Moslem  force. 

We  are  allowed  to  go  up  and  down  the  various 
stairways  in  the  rotunda,  notwithstanding  the  di- 
verse quarters  of  various  creeds.  Above  are  the 
Armenians,  looking  down  on  the  canopy.  In  a 
secluded  spot  the  Copts  have  their  chapel.  The 
Syrians  are  allowed  a  place  by  Armenian  grace. 
The  places  are  numbered,  as  pilgrims  sleep  here 
frequently,  and  this  order  is  indispensable  for 
peace  and  rest.  The  Greeks  and  Latins  seem  to 
have  the  largest,  space  and  liberty,  the  former 
making  the  most  demonstration  in  shrines,  pic- 
tures, and  jewels,  but  scarcely  as  much  devotion  in 
ceremonies  and  services  as  the  Latins. 

After  looking  at  the  outer  forms  in  the  rotunda, 
the  lamps,  pictures,  tapestries,  and  shrines  of  jewels, 
silver,  and  gold,  we  take  our  tapers  and  go  to  the 
left  down  into  the  dark.  Here  is  solid  rock.  It  is 
no  counterfeit.  We  are  shown  the  tombs  of  Nico- 
demus  and  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  and  others  not 


VISITING  HOL  Y  PLACES. 


337 


yet  opened.  Then  we  enter  the  sacred  place.  De- 
scriptions given  in  the  early  centuries  correspond 
with  what  we  see.  It  is  a  cave  hewn  in  the  rock. 
It  is  above  the  level  ground.  It  is  some  six  feet 
square,  and  one-half  is  occupied  by  the  sarcophagus. 
The  mark  of  the  workmen  still  shows  upon  the 
hewn  rock. 

As  we  enter  we  hear  the  chant  of  the  Franciscans 
sounding  in  the  Latin  church,  and  perceive  a  priest 
renewing  the  lamps  over  the  tomb.  We  reverently 
draw  the  curtain  ;  he  motions  us  to  enter,  and  then 
retires  by  another  way.  It  is  a  narrow  place.  Age 
is  upon  everything  here,  except  upon  the  fresh,  pure, 
white,  stainless  marble,  which  covers  this  sacred 
place,  and  upon  which  our  Lord's  body  lay.  Some 
pilgrims  are  here  praying.  It  seems  a  place  for 
hush  and  prayer.  I  find  in  my  wife's  journal  this 
brief  sentence,  for  I  cannot  describe  the  impres- 
sion :  "The  hallowed  spot  seems,  indeed,  holy 
ground,  and  we,  too,  with  reverent  lip  touch  the 
cold  stone  with  loving,  tearful  awe." 

Never  since  I  have  had  a  consciousness  of  the  soul 
that  rose  with  my  life's  being,  and  which  has  ever 
seemed,  to  my  best  meditation,  to  come  from  afar — 
from  God,  who  is  its  home — have  I  had  such  un- 
controllable and  worshipful  emotion.  It  is  useless  to 
reason  about  it ;  and  to  avow  it,  why  should  one  be 
ashamed  ?  In  this  far-off  country  one  is  very  near 
his  highest  and  best  thought ;  and  at  the  very  tomb, 
or  at  least  in  the  very  precincts  of  the  spot  where 
He  suffered,  agonized,  and  died,  the  utter  helpless- 
ness of  one's  condition,  without  divine  aid,  sub- 
dues all  pride  and  humbles  all  worldliness.  What 
Whittier  said  so  tenderly  came  to  my  memory  with 
new,  unutterable  meaning : 
is 


338  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

"  I  know  not  where  His  islands  lift 

Their  froncled  palms  in  air; 
I  only  know  I  cannot  drift 
Beyond  His  love  and  care." 

It  is  meet  that  we  should  close  our  Sabbath  here 
and  thus.  We  thread  the  Via  Dolorosa  homeward, 
pondering  the  problems  of  this  life,  which  these 
scenes,  however  wondrous,  only  serve  to  make 
more  recondite  to  the  finite  mind.  Alas !  we  can 
see  only  in  part.  Here  in  Jerusalem  it  may  be  said, 
with  more  meaning  than  elsewhere  in  the  world, 
"  From  mystery  to  mystery." 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

SITE  OF  THE    TEMPLE    OF    SOLOMON  —  MOSQUES   AND 
MOSLEMS. 

The  moon  has  sunk  behind  the  Mount  of  Olives,  and  the  stars 
in  the  darker  sky  shine  doubly  bright  over  the  sacred  city.  7/&<? 
all-pervading  stillness  is  broken  by  a  breeze  that  seems  to  have 
traveled  over  the  plain  of  Sharon  from  the  sea.  It  wails  among 
the  tombs,  and  sighs  among  the  cypress  groves.  The  palm-tree 
trembles  as  it  passes,  as  if  it  were  a  spirit  of-woe.—B.  DISRAELI. 

NEXT  to  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  if  not  above  it 
in  sacred  interest,  is  the  Temple  of  Solomon. 
In  what  I  have  written  its  site  has  been  desig- 
nated. Societies  have  been  organized,  tomes 
printed,  surveys  made,  moneys  spent,  and  firmans 
procured,  without  exhausting  the  interest,  resolv- 
ing the  problem,  or  making  absolutely  sure  its  ex- 
act situation  and  salient  features.  Many  years  ago, 
when  in  London,  Mr.  Morrison,  then  M.  P.  for  Ply- 
mouth, furnished  me  with  all  the  plots  and  plans 
of  the  temple,  made  under  the  auspices  and  pay  of 
the  London  Exploration  Fund  Association.  But 
as  I  did  not  reach  Jerusalem  then,  they  remain  in 
my  library  at  home.  Since  that  time  much  prog- 
ress has  been  made,  and  many  have  been  enabled, 
like  architectural  Cuviers,  from  a  few  fragments  to 
construct  anew  the  temple  as  it  was  in  its  best  es- 
tate. The  various  walls,  exterior  and  interior  ;  the 
substructions,  constructions,  and  superstructions ; 
the  style  of  its  masonry,  the  extent  of  its  piazza  or 

339 


340 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


platform,  its  square  or  nearly  square  figure,  its  in- 
closure  and  spaces,  its  rock  on  the  extreme  top  of 
Moriah,  and  all  the  facts,  measurements,  history,  and 
traditions  of  this  rarest  of  structures  form  a  large 
part  of  the  literature  of  travel  and  Biblical  disqui- 
sition. 

Whether  the  lofty  situation  was  used  by  Abra- 
ham as  praying  ground,  by  Oman  the  Jebusite  as 
a  threshing-floor,  and  by  David  as  an  altar ;  how 
its  porches  and  reservoirs  were  sustained  and  ar- 
ranged ;  where  were  its  entrances  and  outlets  ;  what 
were  the  plans  and  uses  of  its  vaults  and  cloisters ; 
what  part  of  the  area  it  stood  upon  and  how  it  stood 
with  reference  to  the  walls  ;  who  destroyed  and 
who  rebuilt ;  what  became  of  its  columns,  and  what 
are  the  sacred  and  secular  associations  in  all  the 
changeful  events  of  its  history  and  that  of  Jerusa- 
lem, may  be  brought  out  in  that  good  time  when 
the  Sultan  shall  regard  more  needfully  the  wishes 
of  the  Christian  "powers." 

There  is  now  one  disfiguration  upon  its  ancient 
mount.  It  is  the  Mosque  of  Omar  and  its  com- 
panion Aksa.  I  may  have  been  surfeited  with 
mosques  this  summer,  and  may  find  now  little 
grace  in  their  meagre  decorations,  although  these 
mosques  on  Mount  Moriah  have  many  graceful 
arabesques  and  much  refinement  of  art ;  but  when 
the  son  of  Vespasian  overthrew  the  glory  of 
Solomon,  and  the  temple  fell,  the  pride  and 
pomp  of  Mount  Moriah  departed.  The  Kedron, 
even,  has  no  mournful  meander,  as  of  yore,  to  cele- 
brate the  desecration  of  the  mountain  which  rises 
but  of  its  waterless  bed.  The  land  of  prophecy  and 
parable,  the  very  religio  loci,  is  profaned  by  the 
turbaned  spoiler  who  keeps  guard  over  the  marble 


SITE   OF    THE    TEMPLE    OF  SOLOMON.  34I 

plateau  whereon  once  the  wise  men  of  Judah  held 
council  and  worshiped  Jehovah. 

Arrogating  to  themselves  the  supreme  glory  of 
Solomon,  these  Moslems  have  placed  their  octago- 
nal pagoda  over  the  sacred  spot,  and  have  sur- 
rounded it  with  cypresses.  They  hold  the  Mosque 
of  Omar  to  be  next  to  Mecca  in  sanctity.  It  is  Ei 
Harem,  The  Sacred.  It  is  only  within  a  year  or  so 
that  the  unbelievers  could  obtain  entrance  here. 

The  precious  place  for  which  David  paid  fifty 
shekels  of  silver — as  an  altar  to  the  ever-living  God 
— is  held  by  them  aloof  from  the  profanation  of 
the  infidel,  who,  though  he  may  believe  in  all  the 
patriarchs  and  prophets,  is  not  accounted  worthy 
unless  he  accept  Mohammed  as  the  head  of  the 
faithful. 

Even  now,  when  we  visit  Mount  Moriah,  we  must 
have  government  conduct.  Accordingly,  Colonel 
Wilson,  our  consul,  sent  his  cavass,  all  accoutred 
with  sword  and  whip,  to  clear  the  way  and  assure 
us  safety.  We  have  found  this  institution  of  the 
cavass  quite  ornamental  at  Constantinople,  and  in- 
dispensable at  Damascus.  Here  it  is  both.  By 
8  A.  M.,  under  his  guidance  and  that  of  our  drago- 
man, Mr.  Floyd,  we  are  on  the  Dolorosa  Way  to 
the  temple.  As  we  approach  Mount  Moriah  the 
trumpets  of  the  citadel  sound  near  the  Jaffa  gate 
and  ring  out  a  "  tirala."  It  gives  a  sort  of  triumphal 
elan  to  our  entrance.  A  feeble  echo  from  the 
mount  is  heard.  It  is  the  horn  of  the  Spanish 
dragoman  calling  his  hundred  pilgrims  together  for 
a  similar  onset  upon  the  mount.  These  Spanish 
pilgrims  are  not  so  exemplary  here  on  this  Hebrew 
and  Moslem  ground  as  they  were  in  the  holy  places. 
They  bustle  about  with  impatience  and  noise.  I 


342  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

think  they  feel  the  indignity  of  the  Turkish  patron- 
age over  the  sacred  temple. 

The  site  of  Mount  Moriah  is  well  ascertained. 
It  is  on  the  western  side  of  the  valley  of  Je- 
hoshaphat  There  was  a  rock  protruding  at  its 
summit,  and  this,  having  had  some  grading  down, 
is  still  there,  and  the  marble  area  is  around  it.  It 
is  a  sacred  rock,  and  over  it  is  the  mosque  called 
. "  The  Dome  of  the  Rock."  Still,  Moriah  is  isolated. 
On  the  east  it  looks  sheer  down  two  hundred  feet 
on  the  valley  of  the  Kedron.  As  the  Second  Chron- 
icles, third  chapter,  says,  it  was  here  that  Solomon 
erected  the  temple : 

"Then  Solomon  began  to  build  the  house  of  the  Lord  at  Jerusalem 
in  Mount  Moriah,  where  the  Lord  appeared  unto  David,  his  father, 
in  the  place  that  David  had  prepared  in  the  threshing-floor  of  Oman 
the  Jebusite. " 

Josephus  confirms  this,  and  the  Jews  generally 
believe  it.  Excavations  make  the  proof  strong  as 
the  holy  writ  which  they  confirm.  The  descrip- 
tion in  this  and  subsequent  chapters  of  "  Chroni- 
cles "  gives  the  "  bill  of  particulars,"  with  measure- 
ments and  cost.  There  was  the  cherubim  and 
nails,  precious  stones  and  chains,  purple  veils  and 
embroidered  fine  linen,  carved  pillars  and  pome- 
granates, molten  seas  and  caryatidean  oxen,  flowers 
of  lilies  and  baths  of  beauty,  lavers,  candlesticks, 
and  basins  of  gold,  courts  of  brass,  and  the  chapi- 
ters, basins,  wreaths,  censers,  pots,  and  shovels,  and 
crowning  all  a  golden  sacrificial  altar!  How 
the  king  moulded  the  ornamental  imagery  in  the 
clay  of  Jordan ;  how  he  dedicated  the  rich  and 
gorgeous  structure  for  the  ark  of  the  covenant, 
and  how  the  two  tables  of  Moses  were  reconse- 


SITE    OF    THE    TEMPLE    OF   SOLO  MO  A'. 


343 


crated ;  and  standing  before  the  altar  upon  the 
brazen  scaffold,  how  he  prayed  with  outstretched 
hands  to  the  Lord  God  of  Israel,  is  it  not  "chron- 
icled," in  dainty  and  elegant  detail,  among  the 
annals  of  his  remarkable  forty  years'  reign  ?  What 
a  sublime  orison  that  prayer  was  !  "  Behold  !  the 
heaven  of  heavens  cannot  contain  Thee ;  how 
much  less  this  house  which  I  have  built ! "  How 
large  and  liberal  his  prayer  for  the  stranger,  who 
might  "  come  from  a  far  country  for  Thy  great 
name's  sake  !  "  How  patriotic  and  loving  for  Israel 
exiled  in  foreign  lands  !  Was  it  wonderful  that 
fire  from  heaven  should  come  down  to  light  the 
altar  on  the  solemn  sacrifice  ?  Was  it  wonderful 
that  from  far-off  Sheba  came  hither  its  resplendent 
queen,  with  a  very  great  company,  and  camels  that 
bore  spices  and  gold  and  precious  stones,  as  tribu- 
tary to  his  wisdom  ?  Or  that  harps  and  psalteries 
welcomed  other  sovereigns  and  their  tributes  ? 

No  wonder  that  pilgrims  now  come  to  this 
ancient  shrine,  and  that  Jews  "wail"  for  its  resto- 
ration. No  wonder  that  Mohammed  is  alleged  to 
have  ascended  here,  where  a  little  tower  marks  his 
observatory.  No  wonder  that  Omar  insisted  on 
making  his  name  immortal  by  building  on  the 
place  and  fame  of  Solomon. 

It  is  a  shame  that  these  Moslems  could  not  keep 
its  precincts  and  platform  cleaner  outside,  as  they 
are  so  particular  against  defilement  inside  of  their 
mosques  that  they  will  not  allow  any  one  to  enter 
without  slippers  on  his  feet.  Our  first  examina- 
tion is  at  the  Golden  .gate.  It  is  a  part  of  the 
eastern  wall,  and  it  does  make  one  giddy,  as  Jo- 
sephus  said  of  it,  to  look  through  the  apertures  of 
the  battlements  upon  the  vale  of  graves  far  below. 


344 


FROM  POLE  TO  PYRAMID 


It  is  doubtful  if  the  present  material  of  the  gate  is 
as  old  as  the  gate.  The  vestiges  are  there,  and 
the  memories  ;  but  Saracenic  work  has  been  done, 
even  at  this  Golden  gate. 

We  enter  within  the  Mosque  of  Omar  unsan- 
daled,  under  the  guidance  of  our  dragoman  and  one 
of  the  servants  of  the  sheik  who  has  it  in  charge. 
The  hundred  Spanish  pilgrims  have  their  drago- 
man, hurrying  them  from  point  to  point,  and  they 
still  keep  up  quite  a  noise.  The  sheik  himself  is 
attracted  by  the  unusual  stir,  and  appears  on  the. 
scene.  He  is  fat,  gross,  and  chunky,  with  a  rubi- 
cund face  and  a  bulbous,  fluffy  form.  JiLe  is  in  his 
element  showing  off  to  the  Spanish  infidels  his  su- 
preme control  of  the  place.  We  slide  on  our  slip- 
pers around  the  railing  which  confines  the  sacred 
rock,  and  under  the  pendant  ostrich  eggs  ;  look  at 
the  script  from  the  Koran  on  the  glazed  tiles ; 
count  the  pillars  of  the  mosque  ;  step  off  the  sixty 
odd  feet  of  each  of  its  octagonal  sides ;  admire  its 
various  marbles  and  colonnades  and  arabesque  pat- 
terns, modeled  after  those  of  Damascus  and  copied 
by  those  of  the  Alhambra,  as  well  as  the  pointed, 
stained-glass  windows  and  the  gilt  crescent  in  the 
dome  ;  open  our  startled  ears  at  the  hollow  sounds 
produced  by  stamping  over  the  caves  and  vaults, 
and  our  eyes  at  the  last  footprints  of  Mohammed 
before  he  ascended;  all  this,  and  no  interruption 
from  our  Boabdil  sheik.  I  modestly  ask  the  Mos- 
lem guide  if  he  will  open  one  of  the  large,  illum- 
inated Korans  upon  a  stand  in  an  angle  near  the 
pulpit.  He  acquiesces.  I  ask  him  to  read  a  sen- 
tence. He  does,  in  Arabic. 

"  Mr.  Floyd,  will  you  translate  ? "  I  ask  of  our 
dragoman.  He  does. 


SITE   OF    THE    TEMPLE    OF  SOLOMON. 


345 


"  This  is  the  book  of  God,  and  I  am  a  sure 
witness." 

That  is  the  text  ;  and  just  as  I  am  reflecting 
about  the  Mormon  Bible  and  other  apocrypha,  the 
blustering  sheik  rushes  up,  exclaiming  in  bitter  in- 
vective and  harsh  voice  against  me,  using  the  word 
" Kelb"  signifying,  as  I  knew,  a  dog.  Now  I  like 
dogs,  but  do  not  like  to  be  called  one,  however 
faithful.  I  knew  that  he  meant  me,  and  that  he 
used  the  word  in  an  opprobrious  sense.  Did  I  get 
angry,  profane,  belligerent  ?  Not  a  bit.  I  inquired 
in  English  of  our  dragoman  : 

"  What  does  the  incarnate  old  Diabolism  say  ?  " 

"He  says,  '  Shut  that  book  !  No  dog  of  an  unbe- 
liever shall  look  upon  it.'  " 

"  Aha  !  he  said  that,  did  he?  By—  "  but  the  ex- 
pression stuck  in  my  throat.  It  was  unparliamen- 
tary, and  being  better  up  in  the  rules  of  decorum 
than  "  familiar  with  the  rules  "  of  this  Moslem  body, 
I  withdrew  it — in  my  mind. 

I  began  to  say,  however,  that  the  old  curmudgeon 
must  have  got  up  wrong  end  foremost  this  morning, 
and  that  his  breakfast  must  have  disagreed  with  his 
dyspeptic  interior,  etc.,  when  I  caught  our  guide's 
eye.  He  looked  scared.  He  said  to  me,  sotto  voce: 

"  Our  guide  there  is  the  sheik's  own  son.  He 
understands  some  English.  We  will  be  thrust 
forth.  Beware  ! " 

Then  I  began  to  think  better  of  the  noble  sheik. 
Was  he  not  a  devoted  Mohammedan  ?  Was  it  so 
strange,  therefore,  that  he  should  seek  to  honor  its 
record  before  men,  especially  before  Spanish  priests 
and  strange  interlopers  ?  Does  he  not  accept  many 
of  our  prophets,  teachers,  and  patriarchs — Noah, 
Abraham,  Moses,  Jesus,  and  others — and  ought  we 


34<> 


FROM  POLE   TO  P  YRAMID. 


not  to  be  grateful  ?  Although  he  believes  that 
their  separate  dispensations  are  fulfilled,  and  that 
all  heavenly  wisd6m  is  merged  in  Mohammed,  does 
he  not  have  a  religion  with  a  Scripture  as  well  as  a 
system  of  architecture?  His  creed  might  not  be 
as  spiritual,  its  symbols  as  beautiful,  or  its  senti- 
ments as  sublime  as  ours ;  still  there  is  to  him  a 
spiritual  life  beneath  the  letter  of  his  Koran,  and 
an  iconoclastic  grandeur  in  the  very  letters  with 
which  his  mosque  is  adorned,  and  on  which  I  have 
presumed  to  set  my  profane  vision. 

Thus  reasoning,  I  excused  his  zealotry,  and  felt 
a  pride  in  the  excessive  commotion  which  agitated 
his  doughty  stomach.  When,  therefore,  he  pre- 
pared with  flaming  eye  to  order  me  out  of  this 
sanctuary  of  the  prophet,  and  with  that  guttural 
cry  called  me  a  canine  unbeliever,  and  especially 
when  I  found  out  that  our  own  Moslem  guide,  be- 
fore whom  I  had  vilipended  the  Sheik,  was  that 
sheik's  own  son,  and  being  anxious  to  see  more  of 
the  site  of  the  temple,  having  come  six  thousand 
miles,  I  smothered  my  feelings,  cultivated  the  sua- 
viter  in  modo,  with  a  view  to  \h&fortiter  in  re,  and 
said  sweetly  to  the  son  of  the  irate  parent : 

"  Tell  your  noble  and  distinguished  father  that  I 
have  not  met,  in  all  my  wanderings  from  Indus  to 
the  Pole,  a  form  so  commanding  as  his,  or  a  face 
so  radiant  and  benignant  with  holy  light.  If  a  dark- 
ness of  intellect  has  led  me  to  ask  for  the  illumina- 
tion of  the  prophet  from  this  great  book  under  his 
illustrious  keeping — why  should  it  be  accounted  un- 
to me  for  unbelief,  and  why  should  I  be  likened  to 
a  sceptical  quadruped  ?  Tell  him  that ! "  My  five 
minutes  not  having  expired,  and  no  previous  ques- 
tion pending,  I  added:  ''Moreover,  tell  him  that 


SITE    OF   THE    TEMPLE   OF  SOLOMON". 


347 


if  ever  I  am  compelled  to  seek  light,  it  will  be  un- 
der the  magnificent  shadow  of  his  wide-spreading 
arborescence,  of  which  he  is  the  tallest  specimen 
since  the  time  of  the  Caliphs." 

This  speech,  I  fear,  was  but  feebly  translated 
and  delivered  ;  but  it  was  effective  !  Were  we  not 
at  once  ushered  around  with  profound  condescen- 
sion ?  When  we  left  the  presence  of  this  swelling 
son  of  a  prophet  we  would  have  bowed  to  the 
ground  in  response  to  his  abysmal  grunt  of  saluta- 
tion, only  that  one  foot  got  tangled  in  the  cane 
matting,  and  the  slipper  of  the  other  came  off  with 
inconvenient  profanation. 

The  other  mosque  on  the  temple's  site  is  visited 
before  we  leave  the  mount.  It  is  called  Aksa.  It 
is  on  the  south-west  corner.  It  is  vast  in  size.  Its 
central  arch  is  of  the  Norman  zigzag  kind,  indi- 
cating its  origin.  Its  columns  are  fine,  and  it  is 
probable  that  they  were  rifled  from  some  of  the 
Greek  churches  or  classic  temples.  Its  pulpit  is 
ornate,  and,  as  we  see  by  its  style,  is  Damascene. 
There  are  many  traditions  and  much  nonsense 
about  this  mosque.  We  indulge  in  some  of  the 
latter.  In  the  outer  court  in  the  wall  is  a  black 
stone.  If  you  can,  with  eyes  shut,  march  across  to 
it  from  a  pillar  twenty  feet  off,  and  strike  it,  you 
will  be  saved  ;  and  if  not — not.  That  is  what  they 
told  us.  I  tried  it  and  succeeded.  My  wife,  being 
suspicious  that  I  peeped  a  little,  insisted  on  a 
second  trial,  and  pushed  me  a  little  to  one  side. 
The  Moslem  son  of  the  sheik,  who  had  a  vein  of 
fun,  and  rather  liked  these  whimsies  of  his  faith  and 
tradition,  exclaims  : 

"Your  wife  sends  you  to  hell  with  your  eyes 
shut." 


348 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


I  tried  again,  and  succeeded  in  getting,  as  it 
were,  into  Mohammed's  heaven. 

Another  test  this  Moslem  joker  asked  me  to  try, 
and  I  was  not  averse  to  this  renewed  frolicsome- 
ness. 

There  are  in  the  court  two  pillars  near  each 
other.  The  person  that  can  go  between  them  will 
go  to  paradise.  I  "ordered  tellers"  and  squeezed 
through,  but  it  was  a  tight  fit. 

Some  of  the  old  tombs  here  are  covered,  like 
those  around  Constantinople,  with  colored  rags, 
which  are  placed  on  the  surrounding  vines,  to  keep 
off  the  evil  eye  and  cure  disease.  We  walk  out 
into  the  marble  plateau  and  look  from  and  over 
the  parapet  and  across  to  the  sacred  Mount  of 
Olives.  Some  fig  and  carouba  trees  are  around 
the  open  plateau  ;  some  negroes  from  Nubia  on 
wooden  platforms  are  praying  toward  Mecca ; 
some  Arabs  are  drawing  water  from  the  round 
wells ;  and  then,  under  the  convoy  of  the  son  of 
the  sheik,  we  go  below  into  the  vast  vaults,  where 
the  stables  of  Solomon  are.  It  is  said  in  the  Bible 
that  "  Solomon  had  four  thousand  stalls  for  horses 
and  chariots,  and  twelve  thousand  horsemen,  whom 
he  bestowed  in  the  chariot  cities  and  with  the 
king  at  Jerusalem." 

There  is  enough  light  below  to  see.  The  holes 
in  the  old  pillars  are  for  the  halters  of  the  horses, 
and  the  number  of  stalls  is  just  four  thousand.  It 
is  said  the  knights  of  the  crusaders  here  bivouacked. 
It  is  a  cool,  nice  place  for  horses.  We  observe 
the  roots  of  a  fig-tree,  a  foot  thick,  running  down 
the  walls  from  a  casement.  It  shows  how  vital  is 
the  tree,  and  how  little  water  it  requires. 

Coming  out  of  this  old  place,  which  is  on  a  level 


SITE    OF    THE    TEMPLE  OF  SOLOMON. 


349 


with  the  ancient  temple,  and  reaching  the  plateau 
again,  we  find  a  pillar  protruding  from  the  wall. 
Opposite  and  below  are  the  thousands  of  Jewish 
graves  in  the  valley  of  Jehoshaphat,  which  I  have 
already  described.  It  is  on  this  pillar,  as  it  is  told 
us,  that  Mohammed  will  sit  to  judge  the  world. 

The  ghosts,  or  bodies,  of  the  resurrected  must 
walk  across  the  valley  on  the  most  attenuated  gos- 
samer ;  and  woe  to  him  who  has  not  the  acrobatic 
agility.  This  is  the  Mohammedan  tradition.  It  is 
likely  a  distortion  of  the  description  in  our  Bible, 
and  is  doubtless  garbled  from  the  thirty-eighth 
chapter  of  Ezekiel,  where  the  prophecy  is  made  of 
a  restoration  of  Israel  from  all  lands,  as  well  as  the 
restoration  of  bone  to  bone,  and  of  the  sinew  and 
flesh  upon  the  bone.  It  is  a  most  remarkable 
prophecy,  and  fitted  to  this  valley  of  dry  bones,  if 
ever  words  of  vagueness  suited  a  marked  place,  for 
there  is  here  a  dramatic  sublimity  which  they  illus- 
trate worthy  of  a  Miltonic  epic. 

While  looking  about  upon  this  plateau,  we  per- 
ceive the  excavations  made  by  Captain  Warren. 
If  he  had  not  been  stopped  he  would  have  been 
enabled  to  make  many  intensely  interesting  dis- 
coveries. Since  visiting  this  place  I  have  been 
gratified  to  see  by  an  English  paper  that  the  vast 
revenues  of  these  mosques,  which  now  go  to  Con- 
stantinople— yearly  a  quarter  of  a  million  of  dol- 
lars— are  to  be  confiscated  by  the  Sultan,  or  con- 
verted, rather,  to  the  noble  purpose  of  excavating, 
so  as  to  bring  to  the  light  the  "  wonders  of  the 
deep "  beneath  these  profane  strata  of  Moslem 
structures.  Where,  then,  will  my  sheik  be  ? 
Where  will  be  this  doughty  commander  of  the 
faithful  ? 


350  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

There  is  not  as  good  a  view  from  the  west- 
ern and  northern  parts  of  the  city  here  as  from 
Mount  Olivet,  but  certainly  the  view  is  not  to  be 
ignored.  The  tower  of  Antonio,  the  minaret 
of  Omar,  near  the  twin  domes,  black  and  white,  of 
the  Holy  Sepulchre,  and  the  few  palms  and  many 
domes  over  khan  and  bath,  convent  and  church,  are 
here  seen ;  but  each  and  all,  with  the  city  and  its 
walls,  subordinate  to  the  grand  and  ever-pleasing 
vision  of  the  Moabitic  mountains,  now  under  a  haze 
of  blue. 

It  is  always  meet  to  close  one's  last  view 
from,  if  not  of,  Jerusalem  by  a  look  at  misty,  dis- 
tant Moab.  Out  of  this  mist  issued,  more  than 
three  thousand  years  ago,  the  chosen  people  of 
God,  who  drove  the  Canaanites  from  their  posses- 
sion, the  land  of  promise,  and  who,  after  many 
years  of  conflict,  a  thousand  years  before  Christ, 
extended  their  dominion  from  the  Euphrates,  on 
the  north-east,  to  the  border  of  Egypt ;  and  who 
in  the  meridian  of  their  power  were  indebted  to 
these  very  Canaanites  (or  Phoenicians)  for  much  of 
the  material  and  skill  wherewith  to  erect  upon  this 
selected  spot  the  greatest  and  richest  marvel  of 
architecture  of  the  elder  world. 

Engineers  have  delved  to  ascertain  its  routes 
and  bounds ;  architects  have  endeavored  to  repro- 
duce its  angles,  walls,  pillars,  arches,  foundations, 
and  domes  ;  painters  have  pictured  it  on  canvas 
under  the  shades  and  lights  of. genius;  but  it  is 
left  after  all  to  the  reality  of  actual  excavation  to 
do  what  was  done  with  the  temple  of  Diana  at 
Ephesus,  and  what  money  and  power  have  done 
for  Pompeii,  so  that  we  may  verify  by  unveiling 
that  which  the  Bible  and  Josephus,  prophet,  apos- 


SITE   OF   THE    TEMPLE   OF  SOLOMON.  35  r 

tie,  crusader,  scholar,  and  theologist,  have  said  of 
the  glory  and  opulence  of  the  temple.  Over  it 
now  hangs  the  witchery  of  the  unknown,  and  there- 
fore of  the  wonderful ;  and  in  the  absence  of  facts, 
as  exploration  will  give  them,  imaginative  men  re- 
sort to  the  subtlety  of  the  supernatural  for  the  ex- 
istence of  its  supernal  splendors,  and  are  prone  to 
believe — 

"  That  devils  and  the  genii  wrought 
These  everlasting  walls  : 
That  Solomon  designed  the  plan, 
And  they  built  up  what  he  began." 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

A  WALK  ON  HOLY  GROUND  —  THE  SOLDIERS,  PILGRIMS, 
TOURISTS,  AND  MONEY-CHANGERS  ROUND  ABOUT  JE- 
RUSALEM—THE POOL  OF  BETHESDA— A  VISIT  TO  THE 
TOMBS  OF  THE  KINGS. 

One  spirit — His 

Who  wore  the  plaited  thorns  with  bleeding  brows, 
Rules  universal  nature. 

WE  have  done  what  we  could  in  our  limited 
time  to  "encompass"  Jerusalem.  Not 
only  have  we  made  excursions  to  Bethlehem,  the 
birthplace  of  the  Saviour,  and  to  Bethany,  the 
place  of  his  ascension  ;  but  have  seen  the  "  holy 
places"  of  his  teaching  and  life,  his  sufferings 
and  death.  But  how  many  delightful  intervales 
of  association  lie  between  these  lofty  themes,  in 
and  around  Jerusalem.  The  very  streets — rough, 
dirty,  and  narrow,  and  covering  the  old  ways  with 
the  accumulation  of  centuries — are  nevertheless 
sacred.  How  can  a  person  of  sensibility  stop  to 
reckon  the  number  of  feet  below  which  he  walks, 
as  the  place  where  the  stations  of  the  passion  of 
the  Saviour  are  located  ?  We  have  passed  and 
repassed  the  Via  Dolorosa  and  the  arch  of  the 
Ecce  Homo,  where  Pilate  pointed  out  the  Saviour 
to  the  multitude.  In  fact,  there  are  two  arches 
where  a  staircase  leads  to  the  "  Judgment  Hall." 
Opposite  is  the  alleged  place  where  Christ  was 
scourged.  Some  say  it  is  the  place  where  the 
crown  of  thorns  was  placed  on  the  Saviour's  head. 
352 


A    WALK  ON  HOLY  GROUND. 


353 


What  matters  it  to  fix  in  these  raised  streets  the 
actual  scene  of  these  agonizing  associations  ?  How 
much  more  comforting  to  do  as  we  did,  call  on  the 
"  Sisters  of  Zion  "  opposite,  and  see  what  the  good 
sisterhood  are  doing  in  following  the  Master's 
advice  ?  These  places  are  now  as  familiar  to  our 
eye  as  home  scenes.  How  can  we  dispute  about 
the  exact  sites  when  we  know  of  a  verity  that 
very  near,  if  not  along  this  path,  he  bore  the  cross, 
that  he  met  the  virgin  mother,  wiped  the  sweat 
from  his  brow,  and  fainted  and  fell ;  and  that 
at  still  another  place,  almost  surely  fixed,  he  bore 
our  sins  upon  the  tree?  Here  Turkish  soldiers  in 
white  attire,  much  more  meek  and  courteous  than 
those  of  Roman  days  who  crucified  him,  saunter 
with  nonchalance ;  and  here  money-getting  still 
goes  on,  and  money-changers  and  venders  of  doves 
still  ply  their  trade.  Here,  within  those  jalousies 
and  flowered  lattices  overhanging  the  narrow 
streets,  Arab  women  chatter  about  Christian  dogs, 
where  once  sad-eyed  women  wept  over  the  humili- 
ation and  sacrifice  of  Jesus.  But  in  spite  of  all 
this,  and  all  that  the  sceptic  may  say,  good  and 
devoted  people  of  every  rite  are  here,  loving  even 
the  supposed  footprints  of  their  Saviour,  and  ready 
to  lay  down  their  lives  as  martyrs  of  their  faith. 
Here  are  noble  women,  worthy  of  association  with 
those  who  bore  the  ointment  and  spikenard  early 
to  the  tomb,  and  who,  when  apostles  shrank,  were 
last  at  the  cross  and  earliest  at  the  grave.  Here 
are  those  Sisters  of  Zion  teaching  the  young,  and 
not  omitting  in  their  teaching  the  great  transac- 
tions upon  these  hills. 

We  visit  the  pool  of  Bethesda.     It  is  full  of  be- 
nevolent, nay,  angelic  memories ;  for  did  not  the 


354 


FROM  POLE    TO   PYRAMID. 


angel  here  go  down  at  a  certain  season  and  trouble 
the  water,  so  that  those  who  were  diseased  and 
waited  along  its  five  porches  for  the  moving  of  the 
water  should  be  made  whole  ?  Did  not  the  impo- 
tent man  here  receive  from  the  Saviour  his  cure, 
for  which  he  was  reproached,  it  being  the  Sabbath 
day  ?  Now,  how  changed  !  There  is  no  water  in 
the  pool,  save  a  little  green  pond  in  a  corner.  As 
we  enter  it,  the  air  is  dusty  and  full  of  the  cries  of 
boys  and  men  driving  donkeys  within,  loaded  with 
the  refuse  of  the  city,  and  whose  basket-panniers 
are  full  of  dirt,  to  be  emptied  here,  to  make  room 
elsewhere  for  buildings.  But  to  our  mind  it  is  now, 
as  ever,  blessed  with  the  sweet  waters  of  healing. 
An  English  engineer  offered  to  the  government  to 
clean  it  out,  connect  it  with  its  olden  sluices,  and 
fill  it  with  pure  water.  The  proposal  was  rejected. 
This  tender  shows  that  these  sacred  memories  are 
not  all  dead,  nor  is  the  land  altogether  left  deso- 
late. 

We  do  not  pretend,  in  thus  bidding  farewell  to 
Jerusalem,  to  make  more  than  an  etching  of  its  ex- 
ternal scenes.  Scientific  men,  sent  out  by  our  gov- 
ernment, have  made  exact  many  of  the  facts  and 
sites  of  this  remarkable  land.  There  is  a  survey- 
ing party  of  the  British  Palestine  Society  now  do- 
ing excellent  work  across  the  Jordan.  Ruins  and 
cromlechs,  monuments  of  dead  religions  and  sites 
of  elder  cities, — names  familiar  with  early  Hebrew 
history,  and  methods  of  building,  long  a  puzzle  to 
the  learned,  are  being  brought  to  the  light.  Others 
will  record  the  results  of  their  researches,  under 
the  prompting  of  learning,  science,  and  religion. 
We  can  but  give  our  last  and  best  impression  of 
this  holiest  spot  on  our  planet,  before  sailing  for 


A    WALK  ON  HOLY  GROUND.  355 

the  historic  land  of  Egypt,  which  our  Bible  asso- 
ciates so  nearly  with  Judea. 

Go  with  me  for  a  final  survey  of  these  sacred 
spots.  Around  the  walls  let  us  go,  in  the  pure  air, 
and  out  of,  and  aloof  from,  the  sores  and  sorrows 
of  the  poor,  crippled  denizens  of  the  town.  Would 
you  see  the  tombs  of  the  kings  ?  Ride  over  rocks 
and  rivulets,  north  of  the  Damascus  gate,  a  mile 
or  less.  There,  overlooking  the  head  of  the  val- 
ley of  Jehoshaphat,  you  may  go  down  into  immense 
cisterns  or  areas,  that  now  hold  no  water,  and  enter 
within  the  dark  caves  hewn  by  human  energy  thou- 
sands of  years  ago.  There  you  will  find  not  only 
the  vast  tombs,  almost  rivaling  the  pyramids,  if 
not  in  solid  magnitude,  in  historic  interest  and 
ingenious  contrivance.  The  tomb  of  Helena,  the 
mother  of  Constantine,  is  here  located.  On  going 
down,  we  perceive  that  some  one  has  been  cleans- 
ing the  spot,  although  we  are  saluted  by  a  sudden 
whirlwind  of  dust,  as  we  enter  the  broad,  rock- 
hewn  trench.  We  pass,  stooping,  under  a  low 
archway  through  a  rock  seven  feet  thick,  into 
an  excavated  area  nearly  one  hundred  feet  square. 
The  walls  are  smooth  rock.  This  leads  to  other 
chambers.  There  are  evidences  of  columnal  ele- 
gance, with  carved  grapes  and  garlands.  On  the 
southern  side  we  go  into  the  tomb  itself.  The 
door  is  small,  and  the  rock  has  been  shattered ; 
but  the  ingenious  arrangement  to  seal  the  tomb 
from  lurking  rascals  would  do  honor  to  a  Yankee. 
The  door  was  covered  with  a  heavy  round  slab 
running  in  a  groove.  This  is  only  movable  by  a 
lever.  The  door  looks  like  the  solid  rock,  and 
there  is  another  sliding  slab  at  right  angles  to  the 
door,  which  bolts  it.  There  is  also  an  inner  door 


35g  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

still,  so  hung  that  if  pressed  from  the  outside  it 
gave  way,  but  immediately  shot  back  and  inclosed 
the  intruder.  Now,  it  may  be  understood  what  is 
meant  when  it  is  said  that  "the  stone  was  rolled 
away  from  the  sepulchre."  Yet  how  inane  and 
useless  all  the  contrivances  of  kings  or  men  to 
'  preserve  their  bodies  from  Time  the  Despoiler. 

Then  we  will  convoy  you  through  groves  of 
olives,  on  "stony  ground,"  into  Jehoshaphat,  and 
patiently  bear  you  about  the  city.  Many  other 
tombs  of  prophet,  saint,  and  prince,  Zachariah, 
James,  Jehoshaphat,  and  Absalom,  are  here  on  the 
left,  cut  in  solid  rock  on  the  mountain-side  ;  while 
below  them,  by  thousands,  awaiting  the  final  sum- 
mons, are  the  thousands  of  buried  Jews  beneath 
the  rude,  dusty  graves.  Look  up  to  that  walled 
gate  on  your  right.  It  is  the  Golden  gate,  whose 
steps  have  been  trodden  by  the  Saviour.  They 
are  now  hidden  by  the  "  heaps."  A  little"  more 
opulence  of  fancy  and  you  may  see  the  Man-God— 
he  who  was  "  acquainted  with  grief " — ascending 
and  descending  here,  going  to  and  from  the  porch 
of  the  temple,  where  he  was  wont  to  walk  and 
teach. 

Hearken  !  You  hear  the  bells  of  the  mules  and 
the  cries  of  their  drivers  ;  they  are  off  for  the  Jor- 
dan, a  stream  sacred  to  our  faith.  They  are  bear- 
ing the  luggage,  under  Bedouin  conduct,  of  a  camp- 
ing party  of  archaeologists.  Above  is  the  village 
of  Siloam.  It  is  half  in  the  rocks  and  half  in  stone 
huts.  The  bray  of  donkeys  and  the  cry  of  children 
salute  your  ear.  On  the  hill,  above  the  tomb  of 
Absalom,  a  sweet  voice  is  rendering  some  Arab 
refrain.  It  approaches  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  two 
hundred  feet  above  us.  What  is  she  singing  or 


A    WALK  ON  HOLY  GROUND.  357 

doing  ?  Hers  is  not  a  pleasant  occupation,  for  she 
is  picking  up,  for  fuel  and  manure,  the  chance  dirt 
of  the  beasts  which  go  that  way  to  Jericho.  Our 
donkey-boy  answers  her  roundelay,  and  we  moment- 
arily forget,  in  the  simple  duet,  sung  from  hill  to 
vale,  that  these  Arab  children  have  a  language 
and  a  music  which,  born  of  the  Orient,  echoed  in 
these  caves  when  the  Saviour  and  apostles,  with 
heavy  hearts,  wandered  over  this  vale  to  Mount 
Olivet. 

"  What — what  is  the  girl,  and  what  is  our  boy, 
Hamed-Evad,  singing  ?  "  I  ask  of  our  guide. 

"Oh!  my  love  is  far,  far  away,"  he  sings;  and 
she  responds,  "  I  cannot  come  to  you,  my  be- 
loved." 

Are  they  improvising?  What  a  simple  ro- 
mance, amidst  these  monuments  of  the  great  dead 
past !  The  tombs  grow  denser  as  we  pass  down 
the  valley,  as  the  Jews  strive  in  life  to  locate 
their  tombs  as  near  in  death  to  Mount  Moriah  as 
they  can.  Now  we  enter  the  dry  brook  Kedron. 
We  see  Arabs  digging  in  the  piles  of  gravel  and 
rubbish  for  old  pottery.  What  for  ?  To  pulverize, 
for  cement.  It  makes  rare  and  valuable  cement, 
and  thus  the  ruins  of  one  age  become  the  habita- 
tion and  support  of  another.  Then  we  turn  down 
the  rocky,  meandering  Kedron,  to  the  Fount- 
ain of  the  Virgin.  It  is  said  that  here  the  Virgin 
washed  the  clothes  of  the  Child.  Various  rubbish 
is  told  about  this  fountain,  and  various  modes  to 
account  for  the  appearance  of  the  water  are  given, 
until  some  little  science  was  brought  to  bear  upon 
the  phenomenon  of  its  irregular  flow.  We  seem  any 
women  here  washing  clothes  in  a  most  motherly 
way,  and  filling  their  goat-skins  for  the  irrigation  of 


358 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


their  little  gardens  below.  We  retrace  our  steps, 
and  go  up  out  of  the  cave  into  the  sombre  light  of 
the  valley.  Tombs  of  the  "Judges"  and  tombs  of 
"  Prophets,"  old  and  new,  surround  our  steps.  There 
are  tombs  on  every  side.  Indeed,  we  begin  to  find 
the  place  populous  with  others  beside  the  dead. 
There  are  waters  flowing  here,  and  some  green  re- 
sults appear.  Old  Arabs  in  striped  mantles  appear 
with  antiques  to  sell,  in  the  shape  of  coins  in  the 
time  of  Titus,  and  pottery  in  the  age  of  Herod. 
We  buy  much  doubtfully,  for  ever  so  little.  Now, 
we  are  under  the  south-east  corner  of  the  temple 
plateau.  How  finely  the  battlements  stand  !  This 
is  indeed  Jerusalem,  and  fills  every  expectation  ! 
From  the  village  opposite  comes  the  sound  of  a 
rude  flute  and  the  jabber  of  multitudes.  The  hills 
opposite  are  terraced  and  tenanted  to  their  tops. 
In  the  valley  below  are  some  olives,  some  cabbages, 
and  a  cow  ;  also  a  few  carouba  trees  and  many  caves, 
a  few  vegetable  plots  and  many  donkeys.  From 
another  point  Siloam  seems  a  larger  village.  We 
pass  a  well ;  there  is  a  bronzed  Rachel  at  it,  filling 
her  goat-skins  with  water  to  irrigate  her  patch  below 
in  the  "  King's  Garden."  The  lime  rock  and  soil 
are  very  white,  and  the  dust  and  gravel  very  thick, 
and  the  wonder  is  that,  even  with  water,  anything 
can  grow  here.  Here  we  are  called  on  to  examine 
some  excavations  recently  made  by  a  German  pa- 
laeontologist. He  had  found  the  old  wall  of  the 
city,  and  was  proceeding  to  make  out  of  his  inner 
consciousness  the  temple,  in  all  its  parts  and  ma- 
jesty of  proportion,  when  the  good  pasha  called  a 
halt  on  his  enterprise. 

It  is  said  that  one  of  the  chief  agonies  of  the  Sav- 
iour was,  that  "all  forsook  him  and  fled."     So  they 


A    WALK  ON  HOLY  GROUND. 


359 


did,  and  it  was  the  bitterest  drop  in  his  cup  of 
misery ;  but  now,  after  two  thousand  years,  his 
name  is  in  the  household  of  hundreds  of  millions 
of  the  race  !  Out  of  this  desolation,  sacrifice,  and 
crucifixion  there  is  ascension  for  these  millions,  as 
there  was  for  him  !  Who  can  describe  the  healing 
and  consolation  which  have  emanated  from  these 
scenes  of  suffering  and  salvation  ?  Now,  as  then, 
there  is  the  same  deep  meaning  in  the  beautiful 
verse  : 

"  Sad  one,  in  secret  bending  low, 
A  dart  in  thy  breast  that  the  world  may  not  know, 
Wrestling,  the  favor  of  God  to  win, 
His  seal  of  pardon  for  days  of  sin  ; 
Press  on,  press  on  with  thy  prayerful  cry, 
'  Jesus  of  Nazareth  passeth  by.'  " 

If  the  streams,  woods,  grottoes,  hills,  and  mount- 
ains of  Greece  were  peopled  by  imagination,  with 
naiad  and  nymph,  dryad  and  god,  illustrating  the 
aspiration  of  our  nature  after  the  spiritual  beauty 
with  which  we  are  surrounded,  and  if  these  mythic 
haunts  still  allure  us  to  arid,  dead  Greece  by  the 
fascinations  of  fancy,  how  much  more  entrancing 
the  caves,  pools,  groves,  mountains,  and  rocks  about 
Jerusalem,  which  are  instinct  with  that  wondrous 
benevolence  which  lived  to  bless  and  died  to  save. 
There  may  be  no  romance  in  the  dry  and  dead 
scenery  here  ;  Jerusalem,  Nazareth,  and  Bethlehem 
may  not  be  cities  of  palaces,  like  Vienna  or  Paris ; 
they  may  have  no  flowing  Propontis  or  Neva,  like 
Constantinople  or  St.  Petersburg,  but  here  there  is 
a  history,  illumined  like  a  sacred  missal,  and  clasped 
in  the  everlasting  rocks — for  the  vindication  of 
which  kings  and  crusaders  have  fought,  good 
men  like  James,  Peter,  and  Paul  have  died,  and 


36o  FROM  POLE    TO   PYRAMID. 

Chrysostom  and  Jerome  have  fasted,  studied,  and 
prayed.  There  is  yet  to  be  a  better  epic  of  "Jeru- 
salem Delivered  "—-delivered  not  from  the  Saracen 
or  Turk,  but  delivered  from  the  grossness  which 
envelops  it,  so  that  its  high  estate  on  earth  may 
correspond  with  the  glory  of  its  spiritual  effluences. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

EGYPT'S  FADED  GLORIES— ALEXANDRIA  AND  CAIRO— THE 
VIEW  FROM  THE  CITADEL— A  DRIVE  TO  HELIOPOLIS- 
A  GLANCE  AT  THE  PYRAMIDS. 

All  were  but  Babel  vanities  !  Time  sadly  overcometh  all  things, 
and  is  now  dominant,  and  sitteth  on  a  sphinx,  and  looketh  upon 
Memphis  and  old  Thebes,  while  his  sister,  Oblivion,  reclineth 
demi-somnoiis  on  a  pyramid,  gloriously  triumphing,  making  puz- 
zles of  Titanian  erections,  and  turning  old  glories  into  dreams. 
History  sinketh  beneath  her  cloud.  The  traveler,  as  he  paceth 
amazedly  tJirough  these  deserts,  asketh  of  her,  Who  builded  them  ? 
and  she  mumbleth  something,  but  what  it  is  he  heareth  not. 

— SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE. 

IT  was  quite  a  puzzle  whether  we  should  omit  the 
first  days  of  Congress,  until  the  holidays,  or 
content  ourselves  only  with  glimpses  of  Egypt. 
Could  we  have  reached  Congressional  duty  for  the 
December  session,  or  have  presumed  on  the  for- 
bearance of  the  constituency,  then  we  might  have 
had  time  to  stem  the  current  of  the  fruitful  river 
to  the  first  cataract,  and  to  revel  in  the  temples  and 
tombs  of  Karnak  or  Luxor,  or  have  ventured  into 
Nubian  wadis,  or  even  rested  under  palmy  oases 
in  Upper  Egypt.  This  was  not  to  be. 

Egypt  still  holds  for  us  much  of  her  mystery. 
We  have  failed  to  pluck  out  its  heart.  These  won- 
ders, like  the  enchanted  Dulcineas  of  Don  Quix- 
ote's fancy,  fly  from  us  like  the  whirlwind,  and  hide 
in  Montesino  caves  of  Egyptian  darkness. 

After  our  good-by  to  Jerusalem,  and  our  fortu- 

361 


362 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


nate  boarding  of  the  Austrian  steamer  at  Jaffa,  and 
a  day  and  night  on  a  smooth  sea,  we  awake  in  the 
harbor  of  Port  Said.  It  is  the  northern  terminus 
of  the  Suez  canal.  The  land  about  it  is  low.  We 
wind  in  and  around  the  artificial  moles  until  within 
fifty  yards  of  the  artificial  quay.  These  artificial- 
ities are  made  out  of  the  bottom  of  the  canal- 
conglomerates  of  sand.  There  is^  some  trepida- 
tion as  to  our  sojourn  here  ;  for  had  there  not 
been  rumors  of  cholera,  and  quarantine  decrees, 
and  vessels  in  limbo  ?  Is  not  the  Levant  full  of 
cursing  at  the  prospective  impediments  to  its 
commerce  ?  Do  we  not  see  the  yellow  flag  floating 
above  the  dead  level,  and  the  crescent  with  a  star 
• — under  yellow  auspices — floating  at  the  end  of  a 
busy  boat  about  the  narrow  harbor  ?  Can  we  go 
ashore  ?  I  did  go,  while  my  wife  dreamed  of  her 
sojourn  at  Jerusalem.  I  found  a  "cosmos"  of  a 
town.  It  does  not  show  largely  from  the  sea  or 
harbor  ;  but  it  is  lively.  It  has  a  census  of  ten 
thousand,  or  had  when  the  canal  was  building.  The 
principal  occupation  of  its  many-tongued  people 
seems  to  be  to  watch  the  canal,  deal  in  Indian  and 
Egyptian  goods,  drink  liquor,  smoke,  and  play 
billiards.  There  are  in  port  a  score  of  large  steam- 
ers, loading  and  unloading,  and  others  finding  their 
way  cautiously  into  the  waters  of  the  canal,  on 
their  way  to  India.  Two-thirds  of  these  vessels 
are  English.  Looking  about,  I  see  on  a  rear  street 
the  flag  of  our  country.  I  salute  it  mechanically, 
and  make  for  shore,  regardless  of  cholera  rumors, 
and  when  on  shore  make  several  angles  to  reach  it. 

^5 

Stirring  up  some  colored  sleepers  at  the  postern,  I 
am  directed  through  a  garden  of  palm  and  clematis 
into  an  upper  story,  where  a  handsome  young  man, 


EGYPT. 


363 


in  a  vast  looseness  of  garments,  is  writing  invoices 
and  giving  information  to  distracted  sailors  and 
shippers.  This  was  our  commercial  agent.  Recog- 
nizing my  American  ways,  he  invited  my  German 
companion  and  myself  to  his  parlor.  There  was  a 
library,  a  gallery  of  rare  prints,  a  home,  yet  a  home- 
less home,  for  the  young  Englishman  had  lost  his 
American  wife ;  but,  under  %the  inspiration  of  his 
library  and  cosmopolitan  genius,  he  was  fulfilling 
American  duty.  His  courtesy  leads  me  to  com- 
mend him.  His  name  is  Robert  Broadbelt — a  com- 
prehensive name.  He  laughed  at  our  fears  of  epi- 
demics and  quarantines,  and  I  returned  to  the  ship 
with  a  determination  to  see  the  land  of  Cleopatra, 
Pompey  and  his  pillar,  .Cairo  and  its  cafes,  and  old 
Nile,  with  its  pyramids  and  sphinxes,  even  though 
I  caught  the  cholera  from  Yedda,  or  lingered  at 
quarantine  in  close  time  for  the  session. 

The  next  morning  Alexandria  is  in  sight.  As 
we  enter,  the  military  bands  of  the  war  steamers 
play,  and  I  distinguish  the  French  as  the  liveliest. 
The  world  knows  now  what  these  iron  birds  of 
prey  are  after  in  this  old  and  superb  port  of  this 
eldest  of  nations.  The  world  knows  now  of  Arabi 
Bey  and  his  revolution,  and  the  Chamber  of  Nota- 
bles, which  has  raised  the  banner  of  Egypt  for  the 
Egyptians,  and  no  Egypt  for  the  alien.  The  Eng- 
lish are  happy  with  Suez,  the  French  with  Tunis, 
and  both  very,  very  happy  in  Egypt — "  except 
these  bonds."  The  Egyptians  would  be  happy  if 
either  dear  charmer  were  away.  This  is  the 
meaning  of  the  late  revolution  in  politics,  the 
meaning  of  the  Sultan's  intervention — and  of  the 
ironclads  in  the  harbor. 

The  material  for  the  breakwater  at  Alexandria 


364  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

is  artificial  blocks,  made  of  stone  and  cement, 
composing  blocks  of  twenty  tons  weight.  The  cost 
was  twenty-five  thousand  dollars.  An  Englishman 
made  the  harbor.  The  blocks  were  made  on  the 
ground,  hoisted  on  a  car,  run  into  the  harbor  and 
dumped  there. 

Alexandria  is  worthy  of  its  namesake  and  his- 
tory. It  has  had  its  schools  of  philosophy,  its  grand 
library,  its  columnal  and  royal  glory,  and  its  grand 
conflagration.  Its  Pompey's  Pillar  remains,  on 
high  dusty  ground,  where  there  is  no  water  and 
much  dirt,  and  where  black  torsos  of  sphinxes  lie 
around  amidst  sleepy  Arabs  and  flea-bitten  dogs. 
The  pillar  is  one  hundred  feet  high.  It  is  a  single 
shaft.  It  shares  with  the  famous  Pharos  light- 
house, of  polished  granite,  the  attention  of  travelers 
as  they  approach  the  city.  It  is  supposed  to  have 
been  built  to  honor  Diocletian.  The  palace  of  the 
pasha  is  worthy  of  the  city,  which  has  now  300,000 
population,  and  an  increasing  commerce. 

Most  of  the  houses  remind  one  of  Arabic  Spain. 
The  streets  are  unpaved  and  dusty.  Date-palms 
and  donkeys,  camels  and  dusky  people ;  wide  trous- 
ers for  the  men,  and  loose  blue  jean  gowns,  black 
head-cape,  and  dark  or  white  muslin  veils,  sup- 
ported by  a  bamboo  stick,  for  the  women  ;  with 
occasional  white  veils  for  the  higher  class,  attract 
our  attention.  The  dun,  smooth-skinned,  curly- 
horned  buffalo,  with  nose  up,  drawing  cart  or 
plough,  such  as  the  fellahs  in  Pharaoh's  time  used, 
with  water-wheels  served  by  buffalo,  donkey,  and 
men — these  are  prominent  features  in  and  around 
Alexandria. 

But  Alexandria  has  its  drawbacks.  Fleas  are 
one  of  them.  We  had  much  discomfort  in  Judea 


EGYPT. 


365 


from  sand-flies  and  mosquitoes;  but  for  fleas, 
Egypt  bears  the  palm  !  What  some  one  has  said 
of  the  regions  of  Galilee,  as  to  its  congregation  of 
fleas,  applies  to  the  cosmopolitan  cities  of  Egypt. 
The  smug,  steady,  importunate  flea  from  London  ; 
the  pert,  jumping  puce  from  France ;  the  wary, 
watchful  Italian  pulce,  with  his  poisoned  stiletto;1 
the  vengeful  pulya  of  Castile,  with  his  ugly  knife  ; 
the  German  floh,with  his  knife  and  fork  insatiate,  and 
the  swarms  from  all  the  Russias,  and  Asiatic  hordes 
unnumbered — all  these  are  here,  rejoicing  in  an 
international  feast,  of  which  America  is  the  victim. 
From  these  annoyances  what  a  relief  to  ride  and 
walk,  out  of  sight  of  the  canal  and  the  sand,  amidst 
the  Hesperidean  gardens  of  Alexandria.  Never 
since  I  have  been  traveling,  either  at  Kew  or 
Versailles,  Peterhof  or  the  Hague,  has  there  ap- 
peared such  tropical  luxuriance  of  flowers,  fruit, 
and  foliage  as  in  one  of  the  magnificent  gardens 
we  visited  in  this  city.  All  that  grows  under  glass 
with  us,  blooms  and  spreads,  shoots,  effloresces, 
and  tangles  here  in  the  air  of  winter.  The  palms 
are  plumed  wonders,  with  golden-red  dates  in 
luscious  clusters.  They  seem  to  be  the  supreme 
object  of  the  landscape.  After  watching  the  dia- 
beyahs  upon  the  grand  canal,  and  the  canal  itself, 
running  its  Nile  water  lazily  for  the  irrigation  of 
fields  of  corn  and  sugar,  and  these  incomparable 
gardens,  we  begin  to  wish  for  more  time,  and  to 
think  of  Cairo  and  its  dreamy  beauty.  Pictures  in 
our  own  library  at  home,  of  the  Libyan  desert  and 
the  pyramids,  of  Heliopolis  and  its  lonely  obelisk, 
begin  to  arise  in  the  fancy  like  rosy  auroras,  to 
which  the  recollection  of  the  "  Howadji"  of  George 
William  Curtis  adds  its  soft,  balmy  charm. 


366 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


At  Alexandria  we  have  a  day  of  festivity  and 
courtesy  from  our  consul,  Baron  Mannasce.  He 
is  an  Austrian  baron,  of  immense  wealth,  one  of 
the  richest  of  the  rich  men  of  Egypt,  counting  his 
millions.  He  is  happy  in  taking  upon  himself  the 
honor  of  representing  the  United  States.  At  his 
residence,  which  is  the  finest  private  house  in  its 
appointments  and  articles  of  vertu  and  art  which  we 
have  seen  abroad,  we  were  welcomed  and  break- 
fasted. 

We  are  off  for  Cairo  on  the  first  evening  train. 
We  pass,  in  four  hours  and  a  half,  over  the  dark- 
some lowlands  of  Egypt  to  a  grand  depot.  The 
omnibus  takes  us  to  the  grand  new  hotel,  itself  a 
picture  of  the  Orient  in  regal  magnificence. 

Here  we  are,  at  length,  in  the  Cairo  of  the  old 
and  new — Cairo  of  a  recent  bloodless  revolution- 
Cairo  of  the  Mamelukes  and  Mehemet  Ali — Cairo 
whose  palms  ever  wave,  whose  "  dates "  are  older 
than  our  Christian  eras,  and  whose  five-thousand- 
year-old  sarcophagi  and  mummies  come  forth  more 
fresh  and  fragrant  than  the  cadavers  of  our  mer- 
chant princes. 

Being  here,  how  shall  we  employ  the  time  until 
equipped  for  the  pyramids  and  the  Sphinx  ?  There 
is  the  citadel  of  the  new  mosque  of  Mehemet  Ali. 
It  is  equal  to  anything  of  the  kind  in  Turkey.  It 
has  domes,  columns,  arches,  and  half-domes.  Ala- 
baster, for  which  Egypt  is  celebrated,  furnishes  the 
material. 

The  view  from  the  citadel  is  the  best  in  Cairo. 
The  lonely  obelisk  which  marks  Heliopolis,  and 
the  tombs  of  the  Mamelukes ;  the  quarries  of  the 
Mulcattem  hills,  out  of  whose  abundance  came  the 
pyramids ;  and  Cairo  itself,  the  Nile,  the  isle  of 


EGYPT. 


3<>7 


Rhoda,  an  emerald  in  the  yellow  stream ;  and  Ghi- 
zeh  and  Sakkarah,  and  beyond  the  unknown  desert 
— these  furnish  the  panorama,  while  the  heroism 
of  the  scene  is  remembered  in  honor  of  the  brave 
Mameluke,  Emur  Bey,  who  leaped,  horseback, 
from  the  wall  and  escaped  the  massacre.  Above 
all  the  objects,  however,  are  the  pyramids,  in 
interest  and  age.  Distance  lends  its  charm  to 
them,  for  they  seem  like  pictures  unreal  and 
strange  upon  the  edge  of  that  trackless  desert  of 
sand  ! 

The  drive  to  Heliopolis  was  interesting.  Since 
we  cannot  see  Memphis,  it  being  in  the  "  abyss  of 
time,"  and  under  the  freshet  of  the  river,  and  since 
Thebes  is  out  of  the  question,  as  we  have  no  time, 
the  next  feasible  thing  is  to  visit  the  ancient  city 
of  Heliopolis,  the  seat  of  the  university  where 
Plato  studied  logic  and  beauty.  There  is  but  one 
obelisk  left  here,  and  its  counterpart  is  now  in  Cen- 
tral Park.  Still,  five  miles  or  more  from  Cairo  is 
the  spot  where  "  Orient  Sunbeams  "  were  worshiped, 
three  thousand  six  hundred  years  ago,  with  great 
pomp.  This  worship  was  celebrated.  The  road  is 
dusty,  but  shady.  Some  of  the  pashas  have  made 
avenues  about  Cairo,  and  they  deserve  honor  for 
it.  It  is  the  land  of  the  sun,  and  the  shadow  is 
indispensable.  But  of  the  solar  worship  only  this 
one  obelisk  remains.  It  has  its  Biblical  association, 
for  it  looked  down  upon  Joseph  at  the  time  of 
his  marriage  with  Asenath.  It  was  a  century 
old  when  Joseph  came  into  Egypt.  Herodotus 
refers  to  it.  It  is  lonely  now;  its  companions 
are  in  exile.  All  about  it  are  grain-fields,  re- 
newed in  vegetable  vigor  by  the  inundations  of 
the  Nile.  At  the  beginning  of  the  century  there 


368  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

was  a  battle  on  these  fertile  grounds  between  the 
French  and  Turks.  The  visible  thing  of  interest 
here  is  apocryphal.  It  is  a  tree — an  enormous  and 
far-spreading  sycamore.  The  tree  itself  is  a  mar- 
vel, but  the  other  marvel  connected  with  it  is  that 
it  shaded  Joseph  and  Mary,  with  the  Child,  when 
they  fled  hither  from  Herod  !  The  tree  is  within 
an  iron  railing,  and  is  surrounded  with  flowering 
jasmine.  We  plucked  some  "  for  thoughts." 

Returning  to  our  hotel,  wjio  should  I  meet  but 
my  old  friend  General  Stone,  now  in  high  favor  as 
the  chief  of  staff  and  organizer  of  the  Egyptian 
army.  While  relating  to  him  the  impressions  of 
this  elder  civilization  and  its  monuments  and  mem- 
ories, he  said : 

"  Would  it  astonish  you  to  know  that  I  have  con- 
sulted a  stone  record  forty-five  hundred  years  old, 
to  ascertain  certain  routes  of  travel  in  Upper  Egypt, 
and  that  the  metes  and  bounds,  oases  and  wells, 
were  all  found  to  be  accurately  set  forth  in  this  rec- 
ord ?  This  research  became  necessary  for  army 
and  surveying  purposes.  It  is  an  illustration  of 
what  does  remain  here  of  more  moment  than  the 
mummies  of  Rameses  and  Pharaoh." 

But  why  should  one  be  astonished  at  the  remote- 
ness of  that  antiquity  which  antedates  ancient  his- 
tory? When  we  remember  that  the  Indus-Euphra- 
tes-Nile civilizations  had  their  synchronous  origins 
5,000  B.  c.,  their  history  becomes  as  nebulous  as 
geologic  eons,  with  its  millenniums  of  cycles  ? 

It  was  one  of  my  delights  to  meet  this  sterling 
soldier,  "  Stone  Pasha."  Behind  his  fleet  white 
horses,  along  the  Shoobra  road,  we  had  the  oppor- 
tunity of  seeing  the  elite  of  this  mixed  viceroyalty. 
Among  them  was  the  Khedive,  out  on  a  drive. 


EGYPT.  36g 

He  is  a  man  of  the  oriental  type,  and  wearing  the 
fez  as  the  only  sign,  in  his  dress,  of  his  Moslem 
faith.  What  a  drive  this  is  !  While  we  were  out 
two  teams  ran  away.  One  landed  a  landau  into  a 
canal,  and  the  other  a  carriage  into  a  sugar-field. 
Dashing  by  us  on  the  road  are  elegant  equipages, 
with  veiled  Circassians  within,  whose  eyes  fairly 
flash  like  their  diamonds.  They  are  preceded  by 
mounted  janizaries,  pistoled  and  scimitared. 
Strange  attendants  are  on  either  side  bearing 
wands.  On  each  side  rides  a  mounted  eunuch,  and 
behind  the  carriage  are  other  eunuchs  and  other 
mounted  janizaries.  These  women  are  wives  of 
princes.  While  studying  the  phases  of  this  Egyp- 
tian life,  we  visited  old  bazaars  and  streets.  It  is 
the  old,  old  story  here,  which  is  of  Arabic  origin, 
that  of  the  lazy,  easy,  smoking  children  of  Moham- 
med and  of  the  sun. 

This  morning  we  plan  a  trip  to  the  suburbs.  On 
our  way  we  stop  at  the  ferry  and  cross  over  to  the 
isle  of  Rhoda,  where  we  visit  the  palace  of  the 
former  Khedive,  now  in  disuse,  and  see  the  Nilom- 
eter,  or  basin  in  which  the  depth  of  the  Nile  is 
measured.  "It  is  lower  to-day  than  yesterday,"  says 
our  guide.  It  indicates  forty  feet.  Less  than  that 
is  not  accounted  very  fructifying,  and  much  more 
is  devastating.  The  walls  of  the  garden  are  cov- 
ered with  the  Nile  water-lily,  a  plant  that  looks  like 
our  clematis,  while  the  flower  resembles  our  purple 
morning-glory.  Professer  Ebers  pictures,  in  his 
romances  of  early  Egypt,  this  isle  of  Rhoda  as  a 
second  Paradise,  with  its  gardens  and  shades ;  and 
such  we,  too,  find  even  unto  this  day.  We  crossed 
and  recrossed  the  river  in  a  boat  by  sail,  and  landed 
with  the  current.  At  the  pier,  men  were  filling  their 


37° 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


hog-skin  sacks  with  water  ;  while  women  were  wash- 
ing soiled  linen  in  delightful  proximity  ! 

I  fail  to  see  the  ideal  girl,  referred  to  so  raptur- 
ously by  Warburton  and  others.  The  lustrous 
eye  and  plaintive  voice  are  disenchanted  by  disease 
and  dirt. 

My  wife  was  invited  to  go  with  our  vice-consul's 
wife  to  call  on  an  "  Egyptian  princess." .  A  prelim- 
inary request  had  been  made,  and  graciously  acqui- 
esced in.  We  of  the  sterner  sex  were  not  permitted. 
But  it  was  a  pleasant  episode,  when  the  Princess 
Nazlim,  who  is  cousin  to  the  Khedive,  happened 
to  be  sister  to  the  houris  whom  we  met  on 
the  Bosphorus.  She  and  they  are  not  quite 
equal  to  the  picture  which  the  German  Ebers 
makes  of  the  Egyptian  princess  in  the  age  of 
Pericles  ;  but,  with  their  refinement  and  French, 
they  would  make  good  heroines  for  any  romance 
of  the  Nile. 

After  a  pleasant  dinner  with  General  Stone  at 
his  residence,  we  were  gallanted  about  by 
himself  and  our  consul.  As  it  happened,  we 
met  and  were  introduced  to  the  prime  minister. 
He  has  had  many  vicissitudes  since,  being  sup- 
planted by  the  new  order.  He  was  exceedingly 
affable,  and  hailed  us  as  Americans  with  conspic- 
uous cordiality. 

Our  first  objective  point  is  old  Cairo.  The 
streets  grow  more  narrow,  the  walls  that  shut  them 
in,  rise  high  above  us,  and  dirt  and  filth  reign  su- 
preme. 

"  Can  it  be  possible  that  such  tumble-down 
houses  are  inhabited  ?  "  we  ask. 

"  Only  by  two  thousand  or  more,"  says  the 
guide. 


EGYPT. 


371 


We  seek  the  Coptic  church,  and,  as  we  enter, 
an  obstinate  donkey  is  being  dragged  out  of  the 
passage-way  to  give  us  room  !  Quaint  and  old 
is  the  little  church,  far  down  below  the  level  of 
the  streets ;  but  the  priest  shows,  with  laudable 
pride,  the  broken  and  patched  columns  of  altar 
and  doorway.  The  vestments  and  priestly  em- 
blems of  his  religion  look  like  battle-worn  flags. 
The  church  is  much  like  its  surroundings,  impover- 
ished and  pitiful  to  look  upon  ;  though,  after  all,  it 
may  bear  fruit  suitable  to  the  wants  of  this  people. 
We  cross  to  the  synagogue.  Small  boys  quarrel  as 
to  who  shall  be  our  guide.  But  there  was  less  to 
be  seen  here  than  in  the  Coptic  church.  We  drive 
to  an  old  mosque,  now  in  ruins.  The  sheik 
gladly  opens  to  our  knock.  We  hesitate  to  en- 
ter. It  is  too  filthy.  Standing  on  the  threshold, 
we  perceive  many  columns  still  remaining,  which 
remind  us  of  the  mosque  of  Cordova,  and  with 
that  glance  we  are  content. 

There  is  a  good  deal  of  politics  going  on  in 
Egypt  since  the  revolution  by  the  military.  It 
was  a  quiet  revolution,  but  still  it  revolved  out 
one  prime  minister,  and  put  in  a  new  one,  pledged 
to — what  ?  It  is  said  that  he  is  pledged  to  a  new 
Egypt,  without  the  Anglo-French  influence.  In- 
deed, we  have  heard  much  of  the  autonomy  of 
Egypt,  especially  since  the  Sultan  has  sent  a  com- 
mission hither ;  and  the  English  and  French  men- 
of-war  have  answered  it  by  anchoring  in  Alexan- 
dria harbor.  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  there 
will  be  a  new  order  here.  Egypt  is  not  lacking 
in  native  ability.  It  irks  Egyptians  to  see  officers 
and  rulers  de  facto  of  other  nationalities.  The 
Khedive  has  summoned  a  sort  of  Congress,  which 


.,..,  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

37- 

meets  on  the  ist  of  January.  It  is  not  a  very 
representative  body,  as  we  understand  the  term  ; 
but  it  is  to  be,  nevertheless,  though  selected  by 
the  sheiks  of  provinces,  a  body  of  an  Egyptian  pa- 
triotic quality. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE  ANCIENT  AND  MODERN  LAND  OF  THE  PHARAOHS- 
VISIT  TO  THE  SPHINX  AND  THE  GREAT  PYRAMID  OF 
CHEOPS. 

Still  through  Egypt's  desert  places 

Flows  the  lordly  Nile, 
From  its  banks  the  great  stone  faces 

Gaze  with  patient  smile; 
Still  the  pyramids  imperious 

Pierce  the  cloudless  skies. 
And  the  Sphinx  stares  with  mysterious, 

Solemn,  stony  eyes. 

— LONGFELLOW,  Hermes  Trismegtstus. 

NEXT  to  Judea,  Egypt  is  the  most  interest- 
ing of  all  lands.  Judea  gave  us  Christ; 
Egypt  sheltered  him  from  Herod.  Before  Christ, 
Egypt  had  sheltered  the  fathers  of  Israel ;  for 
Egypt  was  even  before  Abraham.  Although 
Africa,  geologically,  may  be  a  younger  continent 
than  America,  and  although  Asia  may  be  older 
than  Africa,  still  the  human  record  of  Egypt  ante- 
dates all  others.  It  is  a  record  of  interest  to  Hu- 
man nature,  for  it  is  the  first  and  most  trustworthy 
testimony  of  our  kind  about  our  kind.  Doubtless 
other  nations  learned  art  and  culture  from  Egypt. 
Greece  was  taught  by  her,  even  as  she  taught 
Rome.  Our  Biblical  knowledge  is  after  that  of 
early  Egypt.  All  its  old  people  have  gone  to  the 
abysm  except  the  Coptic  race,  whose  features  we 
see  upon  the  ancient  monuments  and  in  the  mar- 

373 


374 


FROM  POLE    TO   PYRAMID. 


ket-places  and  Christian  churches.  These  remain- 
ing Copts  seem  to  be  as  foreign  to  Egypt  and  its 
Arabs  and  Bedouins  as  the  Jews  to  Judea. 

Turkey  ostensibly  rules  Egypt.  Much  of  the 
olden  power  of  the  Ottoman,  however,  has  departed. 
When  it  arose  in  Asia  Minor,  with  a  capital  at 
Broussa,  it  swept  from  Ispahan  to  Vienna,  upturned 
the  throne  of  the  caliphs  in  Bagdad  and  of  the  em- 
perors in  Constantinople.  It  seized  the  sacred 
control  of  Moslemdom.  Its  population  is  said  to 
be  thirty  or  forty  millions,  including  about  eight 
and  a  half  millions  in  Egypt  Of  these,  eight 
millions  are  Arabs,  who  mostly  till  the  ground. 
They  are  called  fellahs.  Seventy  thousand  are 
Bedouin  Arabs  of  the  desert,  fifteen  thousand  are 
Turks,  and  two  hundred  thousand  are  Copts. 

The  history  of  Egypt  under  the  viceroys,  the 
frail  rope  of  sand  which  binds  her  to  its  suzerain 
on  the  Bosphorus,  and  the  strange  relations  of 
France  and  England,  politically,  economically,  and 
judicially,  to  Egypt,  are  not  less  interesting  than 
the  influence  of  the  Suez  canal  on  commerce,  the 
Nile  overflows  on  agriculture,  the  recently  pro- 
claimed representative  body  of  Egyptian  notables 
on  democracy,  the  quasi  revolution  of  a  few  months 
ago  by  Colonel  Arabi  Bey,  in  favor  of  native  rule 
upon  patriotism,  and  the  general  unrest  of  the 
Mohammedans  in  North  Africa  with  respect  to  the 
encroachment  of  the  Christian  nations  upon  the 
Moslem  world. 

Continually  since  we  arrived  in  Constantinople 
we  have  heard  Pan-Islamism  discussed.  Events 
with  reference  to  Egypt  and  its  relations  make 
the  discussion  interesting,  With  such  numbers  at 
present,  and  with  the  old  zealotry  of  the  Moslem 


ANCIENT  AND  MODERN  LAND  OF  THE  PHARAOHS.      375 

aroused, — is  the  Jehad  or  war  of  extermination 
against  the  infidel  probable  ?  Islam  rose  in  Ara- 
bia. Its  early  devotees  were  brave  and  hardy. 
Their  patriarchal  system  and  manners  have  changed 
but  little.  They  began,  and  still  live,  by  raids  or 
ghazu.  The  Prophet  was  their  war-cry.  They 
spread  and  were  absorbed.  Persian,Turk,  and  Tartar 
were  at  once  conquered,  yet  became  leaders.  The 
central  elemental  power,  once  established  by  the 
Caliphate,  has  had  various  centres ;  but,  after  all, 
Mecca  remains  most  potential  to-day  as  a  religious 
nucleus.  It  is  a  long  story,  that  of  Mohammed  and 
his  relations  and  traditions.  The  schism  made  in 
the  ranks  of  Islam  affected  its  power.  The  great 
Haroun  Alraschid  combined  it  for  a  time;  but 
when  the  last  of  the  Caliphs  at  Bagdad,  El  Mu- 
tawakkel,  was  carried  to  Constantinople  by  the 
Sultan  Selim,  the  Caliphate  in  its  title  and  priv- 
ileges was  transferred  to  the  Ottoman.  There  it 
remains.  This  is  indeed  a  power ;  and  from  it,  or 
from  those  who  do  or  may  wield  it,  will  come  the 
Jehad. 

Accordingly,  we  see  that  the  Mohammedan  world 
is  agitated  over  the  expectation  of  the  advent  of 
the  Mehdi,  or  Mohammedan  Messiah.  It  is  thought 
that  he  will  appear  on  the  i2thof  November,  1882. 
He  will  be  forty  years  of  age,  of  fine  figure,  and 
with  one  arm  longer  than  the  other.  He  will  have 
sacred  names  in  his  family — Mohammed  and 
Fatima.  Already  such  a  one  appears  in  North 
Africa.  A  fanatical  following  may  make  trouble 
in  India,  Egypt,  Tunis,  and  Algiers,  in  fact,  among 
the  devotees  of  Islam  the  world  over,  from  the 
Ganges  to  the  Danube.  Another  one  appears  in 
Bombay.  He  is  asked  to  assume  the  Caliphate. 


376 


FROM  POLE    TO   PYRAMID. 


While  at  Constantinople  it  was  said  that  the  Grand 
Shereef  of  Mecca  had  revolted  against  the  Sultan, 
and  claimed  the  olden  Caliphate.  If  an  authentic 
"  green  flag"  should  be  raised,  and  the  Holy  Jehad 
should  begin,  it  could  not  run  long  or  far  without 
arousing  rivalry ;  for  the  Ommiade  family  at  Damas- 
cus, and  the  Abbasides  of  Bagdad,  and  that  of  Ali 
of  Persia,  would  so  quarrel  as  to  enable  the  Sultan 
to  re-establish  his  rights.  It  is  the  more  likely  that 
Arabia,  Egypt,  and  Syria  would  rebel  against  the 
political  power  of  Turkey,  than  against  its  religious 
power.  There  are  so  many  descendants  of  the 
Prophet,  that  the  Moslem  mind  wrould  become  con- 
fused and  the  Jehad  become  localized.  What  if 
the  Sultan,  to  compensate  for  losses  in  Europe, 
should  himself  proclaim  the  Jehad  and  resume  an 
efficient  suzerainty  in  Africa  !  May  not  the  ambi- 
tion of  European  powers  hasten  such  a  Moslem 
alliance  ?  Mohammed  Ali — viceroy  and  conqueror 
— put  down  the  Wahabees  of  Arabia.  May  not 
the  present  Sultan,  who  has  shown  so  much  energetic 
individuality,  and  who  leans  toward  the  Ulemas, 
and  cultivates  a  court  where  sheiks,  khans,  Circas- 
sians, Egyptians,  Persians,  Kurds,  Albanians,  and 
nondescripts  from  all  Moslemdom  are  wont  to 
congregate  for  a  gigantic  Pan-Islamic  federation, 
hold  in  his  grasp  the  power  of  Caliph  and  the  pres- 
tige of  the  Messiah  ?  May  he  not  reunite  the 
Caliphate  of  Mecca,  Cairo,  Cordova,  Bagdad,  and 
Damascus,  upon  the  Bosphorus  ?  Armed  with  the 
small  guns  of  precision  and  the  big  guns  of  Krupp, 
and  with  the  elements  of  this  new  age,  and  while 
Austria  and  Russia  are  embroiled  over  the  Sclavonic 
question  in  Europe,  may  not  the  Moslem  become 
a  greater  power  than  ever  ?  If  so,  the  new  order 


ANCIENT  AND  MODERN  LAND  OF  THE  PHARAOHS.      377 

now  rising  out  of  the  chaos  of  Egypt  may  make 
many  organic  changes  in  this  ancient  land.  Already 
the  Sultan,  chafing  under  foreign  guarantees,  has 
resumed  many  privileges  granted  to  the  predeces- 
sors of  the  present  Khedive. 

The  Khedive  Ismail,  who  preceded  the  present 
one,  was  educated  in  France.  He  was  reckless  in  his 
desire  for  improvements.  He  pursued  the  policy 
of  his  father,  Mehemet  Ali,  to  whom  Egypt  is  said 
to  owe  so  much  for  her  regeneration,  innovation, 
and  enlargement  from  Ottoman  rule. 

Certainly  great  changes  are  taking  place  in  Egypt 
since  the  present  Khedive,  Tewfik,  has  attained 
power.  General  Sherman,  who  was  here  a  few 
years  ago,  kindly  permitted  me  to  read  his  unpub- 
lished journal.  In  it  he  paints  the  political  picture 
then  and  thus : 

"  Egypt  is  still  subject  to  the  Porte,  or  Sultan  of 
Turkey — pays  tribute  and  is  liable  to  have  laws 
and  orders  set  aside  by  that  power — but  the  thing 
that  gives  the  Khedive  most  trouble  is  the  fact  that 
all  strangers  coming  to  Egypt  from  England,  France, 
Austria,  America,  etc.,  to  engage  in  business,  retain 
their  national  character,  subject  to  the  jurisdiction 
of  their  respective  consuls-general,  and  not  to  the 
local  laws  and  authorities.  It  is  for  this  reason 
that  nearly  all  the  enterprises  of  Egypt  must  be 
kept  in  the  name  of  the  Khedive  himself ;  for  if  a 
stranger  gets  an  interest  in  any  enterprise,  he  will 
pay  no  tax,  and  any  question  that  arises  must  go 
to  his  consul-general,  instead  of  the  local  courts. 
This  grew  out  of  the  old  mistrust  of  Christian  na- 
tions toward  the' Mussulman  ;  but  now,  at  all  events, 
so  far  as  we  can  observe,  the  old  prejudice  of  relig- 
ion is  gone,  and  a  Christian  can  go  safely  to  any 


378  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

part  of  Egypt  without  being  hooted  at  and  pelted 
at  as  a  Christian  dog." 

Perhaps  this  was  so  then  ;  but  it  is  also  true  that 
the  rich  lands  have  been  taxed  inordinately  and 
mortgaged  worse  by  their  improvident  owners.  In 
the  last  result,  the  fellahleen  have  to  make  up  in 
labor  for  the  impecuniousness  of  the  proprietor. 
This  is  the  old  story  ;  and  Egypt  is  no  exception. 
Hence  much  of  its  unrest. 

Remarking  to  an  American  here  engaged  in  bus- 
iness upon  this  condition  of  affairs,  he  attributed 
much  of  it  to  the  improvidence  of  the  natives  and 
the  inertness  caused  by  the  climate. 

"  Think  of  it,"  said  he,  "  our  wintriest  days  are 
full  of  sunshine.  They  are  as  lovely  as  a  pleasant 
dream.  We  have  a  lazy  sort  of  weather  here  any- 
how. Every  one  appears  to  think  that  Providence 
will  take  care  of  them  whether  they  work  much  or 
not,  and  He  generally  does.  'Malesh'  (Never 
mind),  is  constantly  on  the  tongues  of  the  Arabs, 
and  they  don't  mind.  It  is  '  Allah-ker-sem  '  (God 
will  provide).  This  furnishes  the  code  of  their 
lives/  and  they  live  up  to  it." 

These  are  the  new  phases  of  the  oldest  of  na- 
tions. They  are  worth  a  visit  to  the  Nile  for  their 
elucidation. 

But  as  the  politics  of  the  Orient,  including  Tur- 
key and  Egypt,  are  in  a  transitory  condition,  and 
as  not  much  of  certainty  can  as  yet  be  crystal- 
lized, the  chief  interest  of  Egypt  for  the  tourist 
centres  in  its  climate  and  position,  and  its  history 
and  monuments. 

Its  climate  is  balm  itself.  It  is  dry.  The  mud 
huts  survive  all  its  changes.  In  winter  its  mildness 
is  a  salutary  luxury.  These  features  of  the  climate 


ANCIENT  AND  MODERN  LAND  OF  THE  PHARAOHS.      379' 

result  from  the  position  of  Egypt.  It  is  in  the 
north-east  corner  of  Africa  ;  yet  it  is  not  African  in 
its  ordinary  meaning.  It  is  a  small  corner  of  Africa 
physically  ;  but  neither  are  its  people  nor  is  its  posi- 
tion African.  Egypt  is  the  Nile.  The  Nile  made 
it  the  cradle  of  human  thought  and  progress,  and 
the  Nile  plays  for  it  even  yet  an  important  part  in 
civilization.  The  Nile  has  created  its  limits  and 
gifted  it  with  opulence.  The  delta,  whose  apex  is 
near  old  Memphis  and  modern  Cairo,  is  the  creature 
of  the  river.  The  northern  side  of  the  delta  coun- 
try made  by  the  river  is  160  miles  along  the  Medi- 
terranean. From  its  southern  boundary  on  Nubia, 
where  the  templed  isles  of  Philae  and  Elephantine 
divide  the  waters  of  the  foaming  river,  you  have  a 
sweeping  stream  550  miles  in  length;  but  the  fruit- 
fulness  it  engenders  is  straitened  within  a  valley, 
seldom  more  than  seven  or  ten  miles  wide.  Mount- 
ains, or  hills  of  sandstone  or  rock,  shut  in  this  strip 
from  the  invading  sands  of  the  desert. 

I  did  not  go  even  up  as  far  as  the  first  cataract 
at  Assouan,  but  I  know  that  there  is  a  sameness  in 
the  scenery — a  broad  river,  greenish  when  low,  red- 
dish brown  when  high,  running  within  a  fertile  belt, 
between  herbless,  grassless,  desert  hills.  Now  and 
then  a  plumed  palm  and  a  dirty  Arab  town  diver- 
sify the  plain,  where  ox  and  camel,  donkey  and  fel- 
lah, do  the  work  of  cultivation  and  transportation. 
Along  the  stream  native  women  wash  or  fill  their 
water  jars,  and  naked  men  fill  the  furrows  by  means 
of  baskets  or  shadoofs,  which,  like  our  primitive 
well  process,  lift  the  water  from  the  river. 

The  villages  look  like  old  Mexican  adobe  houses, 
and  are  not  clearly  distinguishable  from  the  ground. 

Before  the  steamers  ran  up  the  river,  crocodiles 


38o 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


used  to  bask  in  the  warm  sun  in  secluded  places.  A 
few  cranes  and  many  pelicans  are  seen  occasionally. 
This  is  the  aspect  of  the  river  and  its  banks  from 
Cairo  to  the  first  cataract.  Its  fields  and  riches  are 
sugar,  maize,  wheat,  barley,  cotton,  and  dates. 

The  river  runs  nearly  parallel  with  the  Red  Sea, 
and  the  Suez  gulf,  and  the  mountain  ranges  west 
and  east,  until  about  twelve  miles  from  Cairo,  when 
it  divides  into  two  principal  streams.  The  mount- 
ains still  follow  by  diverging  east  and  west.  Within 
the  delta,  in  various  forms,  there  are  rich  plains. 
But  all  there  is  of  Egypt  is  sixteen  thousand  square 
miles — double  Massachusetts,  and  but  little  over 
one-third  of  the  size  of  Illinois,  which  is  fifty-five 
thousand  square  miles. 

Omitting,  therefore,  the  excursion  above  the  cap- 
ital, on  the  river,  all  of  Egypt  can  be  seen,  as  \ve 
saw  it,  by  landing  at  Port  Said  and  Alexandria,  and 
taking  a  railroad  run  over  the  level  land  to  Cairo. 
From  Cairo  you  may  see  the  most  interesting  ruins 
and  monuments,  including  the  Nile  and  its  most 
luxuriant  islands  and  plains. 

There  is  seldom  any  rain  in  Egypt.  The  Nile 
does  it  all.  Its  waters  hold  in  solution  infinite  quan- 
tities of  fertilizing  elements.  The  farmers  sow  their 
seed  in  the  oozy  soil,  which  needs  no  other  stirring 
than  that  of  a  wooden  one-handled  stick  of  a  plough, 
three  thousand  years  older  than  Abraham  !  There 
is  little  grass  and  no  pasturage.  It  is  agriculture 
which  the  Nile  brings.  The  fellahs  reap  with  a 
hook  what  the  pigeons  leave  of  the  grain.  Oxen 
thrash,  and  sometimes  a  winnow  or  fan  is  used  in 
the  breeze. 

There  are  as  many  palms  as  there  are  people, 
and  a  pound  of  dates  per  palm  a  day  is  reckoned  a 


ANCIENT  AND  MODERN  LAND  OF  THE  PHARAOHS.      381 

good  provision  of  this  richest  of  food.  Egypt  has 
few  roads.  The  Nile  does  it  all,  except  the  two 
railroads  and  some  pathways  to  and  from  the  des- 
ert for  the  pilgrims  to  Mecca,  and  the  caravans  to 
the  remote  lands  of  Arabia  and  Ethiopia. 

Egypt  is  rich  in  clay,  as  the  Hebrew  slaves  found 
out  when  they  were  compelled  to  make  brick.    Fine l 
marbles,  granite,  and  other  stone  are  convenient  to 
the  river,  and  were  used  to  build  the  temples  and 
monuments. 

This  is  the  Egypt  of  to-day.  It  is  soon  seen ; 
Arab  towns  of  mud  huts,  long  lines  of  loaded  cam- 
els and  of  donkeys,  and  their  naked  or  half-naked 
drivers,  and  lazy  Arab  boys  and  women  begging 
for  backsheesh ;  the  fields  of  the  Nile  and  the  great 
river  itself ;  the  mosque  and  minaret ;  the  hooded 
women,  and  turbaned,  long-robed  men ;  the  acacia 
and  palm ;  and  in  the  two  great  cities  luxury  along 
with  poverty,  dirt  with  despotism;  all  the  plagues, 
including  an  abnormal  government ;  sugar-mills  and 
palaces,  and  an  equable  temperature,  with  a  sunset 
that  never  fails  to  allure  and  detain  the  eye. 

The  history  and  monuments  of  Egypt  are  its 
special  marvels.  We  are  accustomed  to  read  the 
Bible  account  of  the  land  of  Egypt  as  connected 
with  the  bondage  and  exodus  of  Israel.  We  think 
this  account  very  old.  So  it  is  in  one  relation. 
When  Joseph  was  sold  into  Egypt  it  was  B.  c.  1728. 
Jacob  removed  there  twenty-two  years  later.  He 
died  there  B.  c.  1689.  Fifty-four  years  later  Joseph 
died  there,  and  thirty-six  years  later  still,  Moses 
was  born.  There  lapsed  one  thousand  four  hun- 
dred and  ninety-one  years  after  he  heard  the  voice 
of  the  Lord  in  the  burning  bush  at  Horeb  before 
the  Saviour  was  born  at  Bethlehem ;  just  the  time, 


382 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


plus  one  year,  after  Christ   to  the  time  Columbus 
found  himself  in  chains  for  sailing  into  sunset  ! 

These  dates  faintly  express  the  antiquity  of 
Egypt.  Its  monuments  along  the  Nile  are  more 
expressive.  There  are  various  groups  of  temples 
and  pyramids,  and  more  are  coming  to  light  every 
year.  They  are  as  numberless  as  the  old  gods. 
The  great  pyramid  of  Cheops,  near  Cairo,  called 
Ghizeh,  was  built  one  thousand  nine  hundred  years 
before  Abraham,  and  nearly  three  thousand  years 
before  Christ.  It  is  five  thousand  years  old.  A 
pyramid  at  Maydoom  is  a  century  older.  It  is  fif- 
teen miles  south  of  Ghizeh.  It  is  a  landmark  on 
the  Nile,  and  seems  to  stand  on  a  hill  made  of  its 
own  debris.  It  is  the  oldest  and  best  built  pyramid 
in  Egypt.  Attempts  have  failed  to  enter  it,  al- 
though evidence  was  found  to  show  that  it  was 
built  in  the  third  dynasty,  almost  B.  c.  4000. 

At  these  early  epochs  Egypt  had  a  splendid,  mas- 
sive architecture  and  sculpture ;  a  religion  of  won- 
derful beauty,  complexity,  and  awe ;  a  literature 
whose  evidences  I  have  seen  on  papyri  (the  original 
paper);  mathematics,  astronomy,  music,  agriculture; 
and  factories  of  ivory,  gems,  and  glass,  not  to  speak 
of  fabrics  of  various  hue  and  texture. 

After  that  time  its  armies  ravaged  Judea,  Syria, 
and  Assyria;  the  exodus  of  the  Hebrew  captives 
took  place  through  the  Red  Sea  into  the  desert  and 
into  Moab,  and  over  Jordan  ;  Asiatic  hordes  over- 
ran the  delta,  and  Greek  philosophers  came  thither  to 
learn,  and  Alexander  to  conquer.  Learning  lighted 
her  torch  in  Alexandria.  A  library  was  organized, 
whose  manuscripts  are  said  to  have  been  so  numer- 
ous that  in  the  seventh  century  enough  remained  to 
heat  the  baths  of  Caliph  Omar's  time  for  six  months. 


ANCIENT  AND  MODERN  LAND  OF  THE  PHARAOHS. 


383 


After  the  Greeks  took  and  ruled  Egypt,  Rome  came. 
Christianity  followed,  and  creeds  began  their  di- 
verse propagandism.  Then  came  Saladin,  whose 
scimitar  flashed  along  the  Nile  ;  then,  long  after, 
Napoleon  and  his  generals,  less  than  a  century  ago  ; 
and  then  Mehemet  Ali  and  his  slaughtered  Mame- 
lukes. And  now,  with  the  canal  connecting  the 
East  and  West,  stands  England,  with  her  foot  upon 
the  ancient  river,  leaning  forward,  as  she  says,  to 
protect,  through  Suez,  her  dominion  in  India. 

The  placid  Sphinx  looks  upon  all  these  vicissi- 
tudes, and  makes  no  sign  of  revealing  its  mystery. 
Thirty  years  ago  Eothen  looked  upon  the  Sphinx 
and  made  a  prophecy.  The  recent  advent  of  iron- 
clads, which  I  saw  entering  Alexandria  harbor  as 
they  turned  about  the  illustrious  Pharos,  and  the 
joint  note  of  England  and  France  since,  give  sig- 
nificance to  this  prophetic  view  of  Egypt  by  the 
Sphinx  : 

"  Laugh  and  mock  if  you  will  at  the  worship  of  stone  idols,  but  mark 
ye  this,  ye  breakers  of  images,  that  in  one  regard  the  stone  idol  bears 
awful  semblance  of  Deity — unchangefulness  in  the  midst  of  change — 
the  same  seeming  will,  and  intent  forever,  and  ever  inexorable  ! 
Upon  ancient  dynasties  of  Ethiopian  and  Egyptian  kings — upon 
Greek  and  Roman — upon  Arab  and  Ottoman  conquerors— upon  Na- 
poleon dreaming  of  an  Eastern  empire — upon  battles  and  pestilence 
— upon  the  ceaseless  misery  of  the  Egyptian  race — upon  keen-eyed 
travelers — Herodotus  yesterday  and  Warburton  to-day — upon  all, 
and  more,  this  unworldly  Sphinx  has  watched,  and  watched  like  a 
Providence,  with  the  same  earnest  eyes  and  the  same  sad,  tranquil 
mien. 

"  And  we,  we  shall  die,  and  Islam  will  wither  away,  and  the  English- 
man, leaning  far  over  to  hold  his  loved  India,  will  plant  a  firm  foot 
on  the  banks  of  the  Nile,  and  sit  in  the  seats  of  the  faithful  ;  and 
still  that  sleepless  rock  will  lie  watching,  and  watching  the  works  of 
the  new  race  with  those  same  sad,  earnest  eyes,  and  the  same  tran- 
quil mien  everlasting.  You' dare  not  mock  at  the  Sphinx." 

Notables  may  note,  Colonel  Arabi  Bey  may  de- 


384  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

claim,  Tewfik  may  temporize,  and  the  Sultan  may 
assume,  scold,  and  coax,  but  the  powers  have  a 
golden  collar  about  the  Egyptian  neck,  with  the 
word  upon  it,  "  Thrall."  But  will  Egyptian  dark- 
ness or  light  prevail  ? 

But  for  Napoleon,  or  rather  one  of  his  officers, 
the  early  history  of  Egypt  would  be  a  blank,  ex- 
cept so  far  as  a  few  Greek  and  Hebrew  chapters 
are  concerned.  Making  a  redoubt  near  Rosetta,  in 
1 799,  Bouchard  came  upon  a  stone  with  a  three- 
tongued  inscription.  I  have  seen  it  in  the  British 
Museum.  It  was  the  key  of  the  hieroglyphics  of 
old  Egypt.  It  unlocked  the  chambers  of  the  dead. 
It  gave  meaning  to  philosophy  and  religion,  and 
dates  to  events  and  dynasties. 

It  was  a  small  tablet  of  black  basalt,  three  by 
two  and  a  half  feet,  and  a  foot  thick.  It  appeared 
fragmentary.  It  was  set  up  in  the  temple  of  Turn 
by  priests  in  honor  of  one  of  the  Ptolemies.  It 
was  a  recital  of  events,  such  as  inundation,  taxa- 
tion, and  rebellion.  It  was  a  lithographic  order 
for  a  shrine  to  the  king  for  his  virtues.  It  was 
written  in  the  hieroglyphic,  the  Egyptian,  and 
Greek  languages.  The  first  was  a  language  of 
sounds.  When  Alexandria  capitulated,  it  was  sent 
to  England  and  presented  to  the  Museum  by 
George  III.  Not  for  the  history  it  contained  was 
it  a  precious  stone,  but  because  it  enabled  De  Sucy, 
Akerblad,  Young,  and  Champollion  to  decipher  the 
sacred  glyph.  Greek  scholars  like  Person  interpreted 
the  broken  Greek  text.  Afterwards,  Brugsch  Bey, 
in  1851,  and  Chabas,  in  1867,  completed  the  transla- 
tion. Another  stone,  a  cast  of  which  we  saw  in  the 
British  Museum,  was  discovered  in  1866  by  Lepsius. 
It  was  three-tongued,  and  had  a  power  almost  pente- 


ANCIENT  AND  MODERN  LAND  OF  THE  PHARAOHS.      38q 

costal.  It  has  thirty-seven  lines  of  hieroglyphs, 
seventy-six  of  Greek,  and  seventy-two  of  the  Egyp- 
tian. This  stone  was  more  complete  ;  it  confirmed 
the  Rosetta  inscription.  It  was  found  at  San,  and 
forms  one  of  the  interesting  relics  in  the  Boulak 
Museum,  which  we  hope  to  visit.  Still  another 
monument  was  found  of  similar  method  and  pur- 
port, at  Kom-el-Hamadra.  It  is  eight  feet  high, 
with  pendant  serpents.  Its  record  is  more  full 
than  that  of  the  stone  of  San.  It  is  in  the  Boulak 
Museum.  Another  notable  advance  in  recent 
Egyptology  is  the  interpretation  of  demotic  writing. 
It  was  the  handwriting  of  Egypt,  used  in  daily 
business.  It  is  unlike  the  hieratic  and  hieroglyphic. 
No  less  than  seven  thousand  demotic  papyri  have 
been  collected  in  the  museums  of  the  world.  They 
are  the  key  to  old  laws  and  institutions,  and  furnish 
themes  as  well  for  the  daily  habits  and  history  of 
Egypt  as  for  the  science  of  its  jurisprudence. 

When  these  touchstones  were  applied  to  other 
inscriptions — as  those  upon  the  obelisks — the  scroll 
of  Time  was  unrolled  and  the  papyri  received  new, 
real  meaning.  Then  out  came — carved,  painted, 
and  written — the  materials  for  history.  From 
Philae  to  the  sea,  the  old  capitals — Thebes,  Mem- 
phis, Abydos,  and  Elephantine — were  reinvested 
with  their  ancient  splendors.  Temples  and  tombs, 
the  pyramids  themselves,  became  luminous  under 
the  new  light  which  shone  from  the  Rosetta 
stone.  The  Sphinx  did  not  altogether  withhold 
her  sign,  nor  did  the  heart  of  the  mystery  of  Egypt 
wholly  refuse  to  be  plucked  by  the  ingenious  cour- 
age of  man.  Such  Egyptologists  as  the  French- 
man Mariette,  and  the  German  Brugsch,  gave  their 
scholarship  to  verify  and  correct  chronology  and 

17 


386  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

rewrite  the  list  of  kings,  princes,  and  dynasties. 
Even  the  court  architects  came  forth  from  their 
tombs,  and  the  portraitures  of  men  in  life  five 
thousand  years  ago  were  marked  as  though  in  the 
annual  catalogue  of  the  salon  of  Paris.  The  coats 
of  arms  of  soldiers,  priests,  and  kings,  from  forty- 
four  and  fifty-seven  centuries  before  Christ,  even 
back  to  the  founder  of  the  first  dynasty,  Mena, 
down  to  the  time  of  Alexander  the  Great,  B.  c. 
332,  became  illuminated  missals,  to  be  known  and 
read  of  all  men. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE  PYRAMIDS  AND  TOMBS. 

I  cannot  tell  you  the  intense  pleasure  with  which  I  look  forward 
to  seeing  Egypt — that  strange,  mutilated  form  of  civilization.  For 
years  nothing  has  excited  me  so  much. — JOHN  HENRY  BUCKLE 

(1861). 

ALAS  !  One  week  was,  after  all,  too  brief  to 
see  this  wondrous  land !  Three  chapters 
are  too  brief  for  the  summary  of  the  delightful  ex- 
perience. Therefore,  omitting  much  of  interest 
which  I  saw  upon  the  coast,  from  the  Suez  canal 
at  Port  Said  to  Alexandria,  and  more  of  old  and 
rare  renown  which  was  observed  at  Alexandria 
and  Cairo,  I  have  taken  you,  in  the  familiar  way  of 
the  East,  as  in  a  story,  from  point  to  point  around 
Cairo.  The  pyramids  are  now  the  main  object  of 
my  observation. 

To  the  pyramids  !  From  one  of  these,  the  chief 
and  eldest  but  one,  of  the  monuments  of  Egypt,  and 
its  mysterious  companion,  the  Sphinx,  learn  all. 
Upon  the  way  thither,  learn  all  the  ways  of  this 
Egyptian  daily  ugliness  of  life.  Is  it  a  hard  trip  ? 
The  guide-book  says  it  is  twenty-eight  miles,  and 
seven  hours  in  time;  but  guide-books  are  fallible. 
It  is  but  a  few  years  since  the  tourist  to  the  pyra- 
mids had  to  ride  these  twenty-eight  miles,  following 
the  canal  dike,  by  donkey.  The  direct  distance  is 
but  six  miles.  It  is  done  by  carriage  and  don- 

387 


388  FROM  POLE    TO  P  YRAMID. 

key,  taking  the  donkey  ride  over  the  sand  to  the 
Sphinx,  especially  if  the  day  is  hot. 

Our  guide  is  selected.  He  is  Dionysius,  a  Greek; 
but  he  has  eliminated  the  Greek,  and  his  card  is 
truly  Celtic.  It  says,  "  Dennis  Cominos."  He 
dresses  with  European  neatness,  and  wears  the  fez 
cap.  The  Nilometer  need  not  be  consulted  to 
tell  that  the  river  is  up.  By  its  color,  it  holds 
Nubia  and  Abyssinia  in  solution.  We  pass  the 
"  hosts  of  Pharaoh  "  bronzed.  We  cross  the  bridge 
to  the  island  Ghizeh,  which  appears  opulent  in 
vegetation.  Everywhere  Egypt  holds  out  her 
palm.  The  bridge  under  which  this  oriental  Mis- 
souri marches  to  the  sea  is  crowded  with  people  of 
all  shades,  from  the  excessive  black  to  the  dainti- 
est camel  color.  We  pass  some  dozen  of  the  forty 
palaces  built  for  the  family  of  Mehemet  Ali,  and 
his  sons,  successors,  and  relatives.  We  pass  with- 
out the  gates.  We  enter  the  precincts  of  a  tax 
market,  as  Dennis  calls  it.  It  is  really  a  custom- 
house out  of  doors,  to  collect  the  octroi  duty. 
Under  the  shadow  of  the  great  lions  upon  the 
bridge  here,  which  look  wistfully  toward  their  home 
in  the  desert,  Egypt  collects  its  mite  for  municipal 
matters,  and  the  sellers  of  all  kinds  of  truck  and 
stuffs  make  their  modicum  of  moneys.  The  mar- 
ket is  a  medley  of  men,  women,  and  children. 
There  is  a  lively  trade  going  on  in  corn  and  cucum- 
bers, dates,  donkeys,  and  melons.  Sore-eyed,  one- 
eyed,  and  no-eyed  people,  as  badly  off  in  their 
optics  as  those  of  Judea,  jabber  in  an  unknown 
tongue.  The  flies  and  fleas  are  as  lively  as  the 
customers  and  venders.  Egypt  has  never  had  a 
rest  as  to  insects  since  Pharaoh  hardened  his  heart. 
It  is  painful  to  see  the  young  Rameses,  fresh  out 


THE   PYRAMIDS  AND    TOMBS. 


339 


of  a  revolution  against  a  complicated  government, 
fighting  insectivora.  The  flies  light  on  the  blind  or 
sore-eyed  children  and  cling  as  though  at  home;  while 
the  other  insects,  those  of  Pharaoh's  time,  give 
occupation  in  by-places  for  scrutinizing  mothers. 

One  would  think  that  here  there  was  no  emer- 
gency, under  the  very  flow  of  the  Nile,  which  fur- 
nishes a  "top-dressing"  for  the  exhaustless  loam, 
for  the  people  to  gather  manure  from  the  streets 
and  roads.  But  they  do.  We  are  soon  in  the  ave- 
nue of  acacias,  which  leads  us  to  the  pyramids. 
This  shade  is  grateful,  as  the  sun  is  tropical.  All 
along  the  road  people  have  their  little  booths  for 
the  sale  of  fresh  dates  and  other  vegetables.  These 
are  brought  in  on  the  heads  of  fellahs,  or  on  don- 
keys. Sometimes  we  pass  Egyptians  driving  and 
even  riding  the  shaggy-headed  buffalo,  with  ram- 
like  horns.  Along  the  road  are  sugar-cane  fields, 
partially  underwater,  for  the  Nile  is  very  high  now. 
We  are  told  that  they  are  now  using  the  American 
seed  for  sugar-cane.  Why  not  ?  The  mummies 
handed  down  in  their  coffins  Egyptian  wheat,  four 
thousand  years  old,  for  our  American  planting. 
Let  us  reciprocate.  It  will  be  a  month  before  the 
cane  ripens.  As  we  turn  to  look  upon  the  Nile, 
we  see  how  it  is  here  protected  by  walls,  and  how 
it  is  fringed  with  bananas  and  palms.  We  pass 
the  ex-Khedive's  palace.  It  is  now  empty,  as  he 
is  residing  with  his  many  wives  in  Naples.  In 
his  enforced  exile  he  must  smile  at  the  recent  revo- 
lution. 

As  we  turn  to  look  back,  Mount  Mulcattem  shows 
charmingly  under  the  hot  sun  in  the  eastern  hori- 
zon. Its  sides  are  scarred.  The  scars  are  old  and 
honorable,  for  out  of  them  came  the  stone  for  the 


39° 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


pyramids  of  old  and  the  mosques  and  palaces  of 
recent  times.  The  mount  and  its  hills  make  a 
pretty  picture  near  Cairo.  They  remind  us  some- 
what of  a  setting  of  silver  for  the  emerald  vale 
of  the  Nile.  The  land  between  is  low.  The  smoke 
of  steamers  and  the  movement  of  sail-boats,  with 
slanting  masts,  show  where  the  bed  of  the  river  is. 

Along  the  road  to  the  pyramids,  as  in  all  these 
hot  countries,  we  see  bundles  of  rags  lying  in  the 
sun.  Under  them,  completely  concealed  from  flies, 
are  the  weary  descendants  of  the  Pharaohs  taking 
their  siesta.  Let  them  rest.  They  were  born  tired. 
Our  guide  points  out  Memphis  due  south.  We  are 
disappointed.  It  is  under  water,  as  the  Nile  is  over 
forty  feet  deep.  But  there  is  not  much  to  see  in 
Memphis  when  there  is  no  inundation.  It  has  been 
rifled  to  build  Cairo  and  other  places.  It  was  the 
second  capital  of  Egypt,  and  must  have  been 
beauteous  in  its  prime,  in  its  circle  of  hills  and 
plain  of  green. 

There  are  intervening  sand-hills  and  water  on 
either  side  of  the  acacia  avenue.  The  water 
broadens  into  a  vast  lake.  We  are  out  of  the 
range  of  the  noisy  drivers  and  venders  on  the 
road.  We  are  approaching  the  pyramids,  and  be- 
come naturally  and  silently  eager  for  the  first 
glimpse.  Shall  we  be  disappointed  ?  A  range 
of  trees  intervenes,  and  then  some  mad  camels 
on  the  route  distract  our  attention.  The  sugar- 
cane in  the  adjacent  fields,  with  its  tops  above  the 
water  of  the  lake  ;  bamboo  hedges,  which  line  the 
road,  and  a  beehive-looking  tomb  of  a  sheik  are 
passed,  and  then,  lo  !  the  pyramids  !  They  do  not 
look  large  at  the  first  glance,  but  they  do  look  as 
large  far  off  as  near.  That  is  a  curious  optical  illu- 


THE  PYRAMIDS  AND    TOMBS. 


391 


sion  ;  but  so  it  is.  You  cannot,  however,  estimate 
their  immense  size  by  being  either  far  off  or  very 
near.  If  you  stand  by  them,  or  at  their  corners 
they  do  not  seem  so  lofty  and  huge  as  when  you 
are  one  hundred  yards  away. 

But  what  a  desert  beyond  !  It  leads  far  off  to 
Algiers,  through  Tunis,  and  nothing  but  sand, 
tawny  sand.  It  furnishes  the  best  sample  of 
Egyptian  scenery,  in  its  "  vivid  contrast  of  Life 
and  Death " — desert  and  green  fields.  As  we 
come  nearer,  some  rock  on  the  edge  of  the  sand 
shows  white,  for  it  is  of  limestone.  The  lake  of 
water — the  overflow  of  the  Nile — enlarges  on 
either  side  of  the  road;  and  when  it  subsides, 
as  it  will  in  December,  the  alluvial  soil  remains, 
and,  with  repetitious  richness,  remains  perennial. 

Two  villages,  like  those  of  all  the  Eastern  coun- 
tries, are  seen  across  the  lake  under  the  rocky 
rise  on  which  the  pyramids  stand.  The  houses 
are  built  square,  and  some  of  stone  out  of  the  ruins 
of  old  Egypt.  Indian  corn  of  a  peculiar  kind,  the 
"corn  of  Egypt "  in  the  Bible,  is  seen  growing  like 
our  own  maize,  except  that  only  one  ear  grows  at 
the  top.  Between  December  and  May -two  crops 
are  made,  and  another  in  June  or  July. 

The  people  we  meet  are  like  tfie  Arabs,  in  their 
long  robes,  but  they  generally  wear  the  white  tur- 
ban. We  see  some  of  them  at  prayer  along  the 
road.  The  Egyptians  are  much  devoted  to  Mo- 
hammed. They  send  out  caravans  and  pilgrims  to 
Mecca  every  year  with  much  ostentation.  These 
carry  a  new  carpet  for  the  holy  place,  and  bring 
back  the  old  one,  which  is  cut  into  shreds  and  di- 
vided among  the  faithful ;  for  be  it  known  that  the 
carpet  is  a  sacred  thing  to  Islam.  The  children, 


392  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

on  the  route  to  the  pyramids,  are  good  afoot. 
They  run  after  us  clamoring  for  backsheesh. 

I  confess  that  the  surroundings  of  the  pyramids 
are  not  my  preconception.  My  ideal  was  rather 
too  romantic.  I  had  it  from  Dean  Stanley's  de- 
scription of  the  grand  platform,  with  its  maze  of 
pyramids  and  tombs,— a  vast  cemetery-city,  ex- 
tending along  the  western  ridge  for  twenty  miles 
behind  Memphis, — a  grand  Appian  Way  out  of 
which  the  Grand  Pyramid  arose  like  a  cathedral 
above  smaller  churches,  with  the  Sphinx  couched 
at  the  entrance !  This  was  the  scene  which  sand 
and  time  have  destroyed. 

After  we  pass  several  bridges,  and  see  some 
evidence  of  the  road  having  been  inundated  and 
torn  up,  we  perceive  in  the  lake,  and  on  the  right, 
as  we  pass  the  last  bridge,  and  a  mile  from  the 
pyramids,  some  green  isles,  quite  pretty,  with 
palms  and  cultivation.  When  the  water  falls 
they  \vill  be  isles  no  more.  The  water  seems 
to  be  nearly  up  to  the  white  cliffs  upon  which 
the  pyramids  repose,  or  rather  to  the  sand-hills 
which  almost  hide  the  cliffs.  Buffaloes  are  cool- 
ing and  feeding  in  the  water,  and  naked  men 
are  wading  and  camels  trudging  through  it.  The 
buffaloes  look  like  hippopotami,  with  their  big,  black, 
ugly  heads  protruding  from  the  water.  Although 
a  mile  away  from  the  cliffs,  the  sand  begins  to  show 
in  ridges  and  paths.  We  approach  the  monumen- 
tal wonders ;  and  as  we  are  seen,  a  race  takes  place 
between  a  dozen  or  more  natives,  who  expect  to  aid 
our  archaeological  researches.  More  camels  are 
seen  across  the  lake,  for  this  is  the  road  to  the  des- 
ert which  the  caravans  take,  and  their  heavy  load 
and  tawny  color  are  silhouetted  under  the  cliff 


THE  PYRAMIDS  AND    TOMBS. 


393 


against  the  rock  and  sand.  Now  we  see  that  the 
water  is  very  high  and  spreads  over  a  vast  space, 
for  wells  are  being  used  and  houses  appear  in  the 
midst  of  the  lake.  Many  of  the  people  we  meet 
are  very  black,  and,  being  dressed  in  white  robes, 
are  quite  a  picture.  We  steal  glances  at  the  py- 
ramids, and  see  birds  circling  round  their  tops. 
This  gives  more  seeming  elevation  to  the  solid 
structures. 

"  What  is  that  white  object  on  the  further  shore, 
on  the  right  ?  "  we  inquire  of  our  Greek. 

"  Pelicans  " — by  the  hundred.  We  see  two  groups 
of  them,  enough  to  furnish  rhetoric  for  Louisi- 
ana orators  for  a  half  century.  There  is  a  smaller 
pyramid,  not  far  from  the  two  large  ones,  on  the 
horizon  toward  Memphis.  We  cannot  as  yet 
arouse  the  romantic  sentiment  which  surrounds  our 
own  picture  of  them  at  home,  with  the  palm  group 
in  the  foreground  and  the  pink  and  saffron  haze  of 
the  Egyptian  sunset  on  them  and  the  sky. 

Turning  to  practical  matters,  I  inquire  :  "  How 
do  people  know  their  own  farms  when  the  water 
settles  ?  Does  not  its  subsidence  destroy  the  land- 
marks?" 

The  guide  answers  that  the  land  is  so  valuable 
that  it  is  well  marked  with  metes  and  bounds. 
Monuments  are  one  of  the  specialties  and  evidences 
of  title  in  Egypt.  There  are  villages  in,  and  some- 
times under,  the  water.  They  are  left  full  of  rich 
mud,  and  that  is  a  comfort  to  the  inundated. 

As  we  approach  the  hill,  my  wife  observes  more 
pelicans  in  the  distance.  She  is  willing  to  make 
affidavit  that  pelicans  are  domestic  and  tame.  As 
we  approach,  she  sees  a  flock  feeding  in  or  near 
one  of  the  little  towns.  They  turn  out  to  be — 


394 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


geese.  It  is  ever  thus.  We  discuss  no  more  birds, 
but  proceed  straight  toward  the  pyramids,  and 
mount  the  donkeys  in  waiting,  for  the  half-hour's 
jaunt  to  the  Sphinx,  before  we  enter  the  pyramid. 

Much  has  been  written  as  to  this  mystic  god 
of  the  ancient  cradle  of  civilization,  the  Sphinx— 
which  is  the  name  for  Egypt.  I  am  puzzled  to  ex- 
press my  idea  of  it  and  its  temple.  We  alight  amid 
the  sandy  heaps,  and  look  down  into  the  rock-cut 
caverns,  and  up  to  the  half-hid  genius  of  the  Un- 
known. 

The  Sphinx  is  sunk  in  the  lime  rock.  It  is  a 
part  of  it.  The  tombs  about  it  are  lined  with  im- 
mense granite  blocks,  laid  in  perfect  courses,  and 
with  joints  as  true  and  handsome  as  any  modern 
masonry.  These  blocks  came  from  the  cataract, 
800  miles  above.  They  form  an  antique  cemetery, 
covered  by  forty  feet  of  sand.  The  temple  is  thirty 
feet  beneath  the  level  of  the  sand.  From  it.  a 
roadway,  paved  with  white  flagstones,  leads  up  to 
the  pyramids.  They  seem  to  have  been  connected, 
religiously.  The  nose  of  the  Sphinx  is  broken  or 
worn  off.  It  detracts  from  his  dignity.  It  is  a 
mistake  to  call  the  Sphinx  her.  His  head-dress  is 
partly  demolished.  Once  the  head  was  crowned 
with  the  royal  helmet  of  Egypt ;  but  his  feet  and 
form  remain — for  solution.  Let  its  CEdipus  stand 
forth !  There  is  no  satisfactory  guess  yet  as  to 
any  of  these  gods  of  Egypt.  Only  one  thing  is 
surmised,  that  in  the  gods  we  see  the  men  who 
made  them.  We  read  in  their  calm  features  aspi- 
rations after  the  other  world — Immortality  ! 

The  pyramids  are  resolvable  into  tombs,  or,  if 
you  please,  by  a  stretch  of  fancy,  into  astronomical 
edifices ;  but  this  Sphinx  has  been  from  the  ear- 


THE   PYRAMIDS  AND    TOMBS.  395 

liest  days  as  much  of  a  dumb  enigma  as  the  pro- 
toplasm. An  intelligent  and  metaphysical  writer, 
Xvho  was  here,  regards  the  Sphinx  as  more  won- 
drous than  the  pyramids,  because  so  awful  and 
lonely.  He  even  finds  comeliness  in  the  thick  lips 
of  the  Sphinx,  and  regards  him  as  a  forgotten 
mould  of  beauty.  To  my  thinking  he  or  it  is  sim- 
ply a  monster,  begotten  of  the  wild  imagination  of 
a  sunny  people,  who,  after  running  out  of  the  an- 
imal creation  for  their  deities,  framed  this  mis- 
creant. It  is  said  to  be  an  image  of  the  Deity, 
because  unchangeable,  having  the  same  will  and 
intent  forever !  But  it  "has  changed.  It  is  not 
inexorable.  It  is  dead  rock,  and  subject  to  muti- 
lation and  wear  like  any  other  piece  of  limestone. 
I  have  seen  in  Corsica  forms  almost  as  whimsical, 
bearing  resemblance  to  birds,  beasts,  and  creeping 
things,  and  to  men  and  devils.  The  impression, 
however,  which  this  Sphinx  and  its  problem  pro- 
duce here,  on  this  lonely,  shifting  edge  of  the  un- 
known desert,  is  owing  as  much  to  its  age  as  to  its 
insolubility  and  monstrosity.  I  cannot  connect, 
with  it,  except  nebulously,  the  idea  of  Deity  or  of 
immortality.  Nor  can  I  feel  the  same  sense  of 
vague,  nightmarish  horror  in  contemplating  its  sis- 
ter monuments. 

Remounting  our  animals  we  return  to  the  base 
of  the  pyramids.  We  are  pointed  out,  in  a  hole 
in  the  sand  a  rod  off,  the  old  corners  before  they 
were  stripped.  We  look  up  to  the  apex  of  the  large 
one,  that  of  Cheops.  Now  its  massiveness  and  height 
are  felt.  It  is  simply  enormous.  It  is  specific  and 
general  gravity.  No  room  for  levity  of  any  kind. 
Made  on  a  square,  and  with  angles  geometrical,  and 
with  immense  stones — and  these  piled  by  the  aid, 


396 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


likely,  of  mounds  of  earth,  or,  as  some  suppose, 
built  from  the  inside — the  impression  deepens  till 
the  head  is  dizzy  and  top-heavy  with  solid  substance, 
acres  of  stoniness.  One  feels,  in  a  finite  way,  a 
sense  of  the  labor  and  load  by  which  they  were 
made.  Shall  we  go  in,  or  on  top  ?  We  resolve 
first  to  enter.  It  is  no  holiday  work,  especially  for 
a  lady.  My  wife  tries  it,  and  I  follow.  Three 
Arabs  for  each  ;  but  Dionysius,  the  Greek  guide, 
fails  of  heart.  He  has  been  in  once.  Once  is 
enough  for  him.  These  bronzed  Arabs  dance  about, 
with  fragments  of  bad  English  on  their  tongues, 
and  are  rather  too  ready  to  help  us  up  to  the  open- 
ing. The  day  is  hot.  It  looks  cool  inside  ;  but  to 
reach  the  northern  entrance  is  not  to  be  done  in  a 
hurry.  Before  diving  into  these  acres  of  piled 
stone  we  rest  for  a  farewell  glance  at  the  country 
around.  Cairo  looks  as  though  half  under  the 
water.  The  majestic  river,  in  reddish  yellow, 
swings  through  its  green  banks  on,  on  to  the  sea. 
Forty  centuries — yes,  likely  forty  times  forty — have 
looked  down  from  these  cliffs,  half  hid  in  sands, 
upon  this  stupendous  stream.  Less  devastating  in 
its  overflow  than  our  Father  of  Waters,  the  Mis- 
sissippi, it  makes  fat  the  fields,  till  they  laugh  again! 
" Viridem  Egyptum,  nigra  fczcundat arena"  What 
contrasts  are  painted  under  our  eye  by  the  chem- 
ical forces  of  water  and  sun  !  How  beautiful  are 
the  green  fields  of  corn  and  sugar,  compared  with 
the  tawny  infinite  upon  the  west ! 

Let  us  enter ;  not  without  hope  !  The  slippery 
path  inward  slopes  downward  until  it  meets  a 
greater  gallery,  which  runs  upward  at  an  angle 
of  forty-five  degrees.  Then,  on  a  level,  it  runs 
to  the  Queen's  Chamber.  Returning  on  this  level, 


SECTION    OF  PYRAMID   AT   GHIZA. 


THE  PYRAMIDS  AND    TOMBS.  397 

and  at  the  same  angle,  and  about  half-way  up 
the  inside,  you  enter  the  King's  Chamber.  But  it 
is  no  time  or  place  for  photographing  this  picture. 
Nor,  if  I  were  a  poet,  could  I  set  a  single  airy  sen- 
timent in  time,  under  the  yawning,  cavernous  gap 
which  opens  as  we  enter. 

"  Take  care,  head  ! "  I  hear  the  Arabs  say  to  my 
wife.  She  bows  to  Cheops.  I  do  the  same.  We 
go  up  and  down,  sliding  on  polished  stones,  and  in 
peril  of  tumbling  into  dark  vaults.  Our  tapers  give 
a  sort  of  "  clear  obscure  "  Rembrandtish  aspect  to 
the  stony  horror  about  us.  After  much  lifting, 
pushing,  and  tugging,  relying  upon  the  prehensile 
grip  ttf  the  naked  Arab  foot,  and  the  grasp  of  the 
steady  Arab  hand,  now  being  carried  and  now  pulled, 
now  groping  along  perilous  and  slippery  edges,  we 
come  to  the  Queen's  Chamber.  Its  sarcophagus 
has  been  removed.  But  where  is  the  queen  ? 
Doubtless  the  soothsayers  told  her,  five  thousand 
years  ago,  that  she  would  be  safe  forever  in  this 
grand  mausoleum.  Her  fear  of  death  may  have 
been  thus  soothed.  When  she  was  wrapped  up  in 
her  mummy  cloths,  embalmed,  with  her  papyri  bi- 
ography in  her  hand,  she  bade  fair  for  a  long,  long 
survival  of  the  millions  of  the  human  race,  who 
soon  mingled  their  dust  with  the  common  soil.  Now 
she  is  in  some  museum.  If  a  Zulu  prince  may 
exhibit  himself  alive  in  a  museum  for  money, 
why  may  not  a  dead  Egyptian  queen  ?  A  brass 
band,  perhaps,  plays  for  her  dead  ear  in  some 
caravan,  where  she  is  a  part  of  a  show.  Her 
chamber  is  below  that  of  the  King.  But  we  must 
go  further  and  up  to  the  King's  Chamber.  Here 
we  are,  surrounded  by  seven  Arabs,  with  lighted 
tapers,  which  make  the  gloom  worse  and  worse. 


398 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


Then  begins  the  diabolism  of  these  fiendish-look- 
ing Arab  genii  of  this  centre  of  the  largest  tomb 
ever  made.  Cut  off  from  the  world  by  thousands 
of  tons  and  thousands  of  square  feet  of  solid 
stone,  we  begin  to  feel  that  we,  and  not  Cheops  et 
uxor,  are  the  entombed.  The  Arabs  now  begin 
to  coax,  threaten,  grimace,  and  jabber  for  more 
money.  I  say  to  them:  "We  have  contracted  for 
so  much.  If  more  is  to  be  paid,  it  will  be  paid 
outside — not  here." 

I  thought  of  our  situation,  and  hinted  that  if 
they  were  ever  so  good  as  to  get  us  out  safely,  we 
would  consider  the  matter  in  the  open  air,  not  in 
committee  of  the  hole  !  One  of  these  gentle  genii 
said  that  he  would  touch  off  some  fireworks  if  I 
paid  him  two  francs. 

"Go  it !  and  let  us  see." 

Whereupon  he  lit  a  match,  and  whiz  !  off  went 
a  magnesia  light !  It  gave  a  ghastly  look  to  the 
King's  Chamber.  Sparks  flew  around,  like  minia- 
ture stars;  and  I  knew  what  Professor  Proctor 
meant  when  he  proved,  in  Steinway  Hall,  that  the 
pyramids  were  built  for  astronomical  observations  ! 
Cheops  did  not  get  up  from  his  sarcophagus.  •  He, 
too,  had  emigrated  to  a  foreign  museum. 

On  our  way  to  the  large  chamber  of  the  king, 
we  stop  to  look  down  the  well,  as  best  we  can 
in  the  terrible  darkness,  only  illuminated  by  a  can- 
dle. One  of  the  venturesome  Arabs,  with  a  taper, 
crawls  down  the  black  void  some  five  feet,  and 
another  holds  my  wife  up  as  she  looks  down.  I 
shudder,  and  call  a  prompt  retreat.  The  man  in 
the  well  loses  his  hold  and  slips.  His  light  goes 
out.  Just  then  my  footing  gives  way,  and  but  for 
a  prehensile  grip  on  the  voluminous  trousers  of 


THE  PYRAMIDS  AND    TOMBS.  ^gg 

my  Arab,  there  would  have  been  trouble.  I  took 
in  a  dozen  yards  of  fragile  blue  nankeen  slack,  "as 
some  men  count  slackness."  Had  that  cotton 
given  way — a  yard  or  so  more — there  would  have 
been  a  vacancy  in  the  Sixth  Congressional  District 
of  New  York.  But  I  am  pleased  to  say  I  survive 
Cheops,  and  helped  to  organize  the  Congress, 
though  it  may  be  on  a-  basis  as  dark  as  the  cavern- 
ous depths  of  the  Cheops  pyramid. 

When  we  reach  the  outside  some  twenty  Arabs 
are  on  hand,  although  only  seven  went  in  with  us, 
to  claim  their  reward.  The  fireworks  artist  was  the 
most  importunate.  Two  francs  did  not  satisfy  his 
greed.  Water  was  brought  to  us  in  classic  urns, 
and  money  asked.  The  lame  and  blind  were 
pushed  forward  to  us  for  charity.  Our  guide  was 
powerless  in  the  hubbub.  It  looked  like  regular 
highway  robbery.  Pulling  me  one  way,  and  my 
companion  another,  and  with  all  the  infernal  cries 
of  which  the  Arabic  tongue  is  capable,  these  Arabs 
kept  it  up  until  a  tall,  gray-haired  sheik  appeared. 
In  a  hoarse  voice  he  howled  them  all  down.  The 
stipulated  price  was  paid  to  this  sheik.  Where- 
upon a  dozen  cried  out :  "  Sheik  never  pay  us.  He 
keep  all  the  money.  He  don't  divide  nothing." 

I  endeavored  to  sing  the  "  Star-Spangled  Ban- 
ner" to  drown  the  clatter,  but  my  breathing  was 
all  too  short  after  our  extreme  exertion  in  entering 
the  pyramid.  I  told  them  I  would  leave  them  all 
a  hundred  francs  apiece  when  I  died.  This  was 
too  remote.  One  fellow  said  :  "  Yankee  Doodle 
come  to  town."  Where  he  got  the  phrase  we  did 
not  stop  to  inquire.  Our  horses  started  amidst  a 
terrific  howl  for  more  money.  We  took  refuge  and 
coffee  in  a  house  near  by,  erected,  it  was  said,  for 


400 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


the  Prince  of  Wales  when  here ;  but  when  we 
emerged  the  same  crowd  was  there.  The  man  who 
came  near  going  down  into  the  well  seemed  to  be 
loudest  now,  and,  considering  his  real  peril,  we  com- 
pensated him.  We  had  to  buy  some  antiques  from 
the  pyrotechnist.  Then  we  turned  our  faces  Cairo- 
ward,  wondering  that  out  of  the  good  sense  prevalent 
even  here  in  Egypt,  they  could  not  provide  a  de- 
cent police  system  for  these  monumental  wonders. 

The  pyramids  have  three  groups,  and  are  about 
sixty  in  number.  They  are  all  within  a  circuit  of 
twenty  miles.  I  heard  Professor  Proctor  declare 
that  they  were  astronomical  observatories,  or  stony 
telescopes.  This  has  just  this  much  truth,  viz., 
that  the  opening  is  on  the  north  side,  and  out  of 
the  dark  tunnel  in  daytime  the  polar  star  can  be 
seen.  Others  regard  the  large  pyramid  as  a  stand- 
ard of  measurement ;  that  the  angles  of  its  passages 
indicate  latitude,  based  on  the  circumference  of  the 
earth,  and  the  seasons  and  time.  Some  •  regard 
this  pyramid  as  the  result  of  inspiration,  inasmuch 
as  it  squares  the  circle  and  has  no  element  of  idola- 
try ;  that  its  measurements,  on  the  basis  of  the 
English  mile,  are  right  to  an  inch,  and  that  the 
infant  eras  of  our  world  were  more  scientific  than 
our  maturer  eras.  It  is  even  said  that  the  tempera- 
ture of  the  King's  Chamber  is  68°  Fahrenheit,  which 
is  the  mean  temperature  of  the  earth.  We  found 
it  mean  in  many  ways.  Others  hold  that  Job  had 
this  pyramid  in  his  mind  when  God  spoke  to  him 
about  laying  the  measures  of  the  earth,  and  that  it 
was  over  this  corner-stone  of  the  universe  that  the 
morning  stars  sang  together.  Some  have  calculated 
that  exactly  one  thousand  million  pyramids  piled 
on  each  other  would  reach  the  sun.  Of  course 


THE  PYRAMIDS  AND    TOMBS.  ^ci 

40  j. 

this  is  absolute  nonsense.  The  angles  were  made 
for  rest  to  those  who  buried  the  king  and  queen, 
and  who  visited  them  after  burial.  The  truth  is  that 
the  pyramids  are  tombs,  royal  and  gigantic,  and 
nothing  more.  There  were  two  places  for  ventila- 
tion. 1  hey  are  now  closed. 

The  labor  and  expense  bestowed  by  the  ancient 
Egyptians  upon  their  dead,  make  our  monuments 
seem  flimsy  toys.  The  tombs  are  full  of  armlets, 
bracelets,  rings,  necklaces,  and  other  varieties  of 
handicraft.  Out  of  the  cerements,  preserved  by 
the  bitumen,  come  flowers  thousands  of  years  old 
—so  old  that  some  of  the  species  are  lost  to  our 
world  of  botany. 

Like  Thebes  and  Heliopolis,  this  pageantry  of 
death  passes  away.  It  leaves  nothing  but  a  few 
mouldering  ruins — "  like  sea-shells  where  the  ocean 
has  been — to  tell  that  the  great  tide  of  life  was 
once  there  ! " 

After  seeing  these  six  pyramids  in  a  group,  and 
the  other  three  groups  in  sight,  one  becomes  as 
silent  and  thoughtful  as  the  Sphinx  seems  to  be. 
The  immensity  of  the  larger  ones  would  not  seem 
so  great  if  they  were  Alps,  or  Atlas,  or  Lebanon 
mountains — God's  handiwork.  The  largest  one, 
the  one  we  entered,  is  only  460  feet  high  and  15 
feet  square  on  its  top.  It  covers  thirteen  acres. 
It  employed  100,000  men  ten  years  to  make  the 
causeway  to  transport  the  material  for  building ; 
and  to  build  it  360,000  men  twenty  years  !  It 
does  not,  however,  compare  with  "  Nord  Cap  "  even, 
nor  with  the  Cathedral  Dome  in  the  Yosemite. 
But  the  pyramids  are  man's  work.  God  works 
geometrically  in  the  petals  of  the  flower,  in  the 
laminated  foldings  of  the  pearl,  in  the  strata  of 


.Q2  FROM  POLE    TO   PYRAMID. 

the  mountains,  and  in  the  evolution  of  the  constel- 
lations ;  but  here,  this  simple  big-  square,  or  triangle 
set  on  its  larger  end,  now  rough  with  rugged  stones, 
though  once  glossy  and  smoothed  by  the  same 
manual  dexterity  which  lifted  them  in  their  geo- 
metric order,  because  man  made  it,  becomes  sub- 
lime by  its  work  and  its  permanency.  No  demi-gods, 
no  giants,  piled  up  these  honors  to  dead  royalty  ; 
but  the  ambition  to  be  remembered  made  the  kings 
of  Egypt  confiscate  and  press  the  labor  of  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  slaves  for  a  score  or  more  of  years ; 
and  all  that  their  mummies  might  be  handed  down 
for  transportation  among  subsequent  nations. 

These  monuments  indicate  the  slavery  of  Egypt 
to  the  mysteries  of  royal  and  priestly  control. 
Every  Egyptian  ruler  began  to  reign  by  building 
his  tomb.  What  chattels  men  and  their  muscles 
must  have  been,  the  Israelitish  history  demon- 
strates. Call  it  necromancy,  witchcraft,  spirit- 
causes,  or  the  beginnings  of  science,  it  is  certain 
that  the  masses  of  men  in  old  Egypt  were  dumb 
cattle,  driven  by  their  rulers  to  build  monuments 
to  perpetuate  royal  glory.  Even  as  late  as  the 
Ptolemies  the  social  order  of  Egypt  had  its  symbol 
in  the  pyramid.  The  whole  structure  was  based  on 
the  labor  of  the  many,  with  a  "  royal  priesthood " 
as  the  apex  !  Then,  the  child  was  owned  by  the 
mother,  the  married  man  by  his  wife,  and  even 
every  corpse  belonged  to  the  priest.  There  was 
no  individuality  except  at  the  apex  !  Egypt  was 
ruled  by  creeds  whose  mystery  was  in  sacred  keep- 
ing. To  the  profane  vulgar  this  mystery  was  as 
awful  as  the  features  of  the  Sphinx,  and  as  Delphic 
as  the  Greek  letters  over  the  portal  of  Apollo. 
They  reverenced  most  who  understood  least. 


CONCLUDING  CHAPTER. 

BOULAK  MUSEUM— FAREWELL  TO  THE  NILE. 

And  what  a  series  of  history  it  is  !  In  that  long  defile  of 
ruins  every  age  has  borne  its  part,  from  Osirtasen  I.  to  the  latest 
Ptolemy,  from  the  time  of  Joseph  to  the  Christian  eraj  through 
the  whole  period  of  Jewish  history  and  of  the  ancient  world,  the 
splendor  of  the  earth  kept  pouring  into  that  space  for  two  thou- 
sand years. — STANLEY'S  Sinai  and  Palestine,  Introduction,  xxxix. 

ON  returning  to  our  hotel  we  sought  the  cele- 
brated Egyptian  collection  in  the  Museum  of 
Boulak.  It  is  the  most  interesting  in  the  world.  It 
has  five  times  as  many  Egyptian  monuments  and 
hieroglyphs  as  all  other  museums.  It  has  a  recent 
acquisition  of  the  old  kings.  We  found  these  kings 
arranged  in  order.  Although  the  room  is  small,  it 
contains  more  thousands  of  years  of  interesting 
human  antiquity  than  one  could  study  in  a  life- 
time. We  gave  to  it  only  about  at  the  rate  of  ten 
minutes  to  a  thousand  years.  Statues  in  black 
marble  of  priests  and  kings,  with  curious  beards 
and  headgear,  and  outre  animals — gods,  I  suppose 
— appear,  with  bas-reliefs  of  men  and  women  in 
wood.  There  is  a  statue  in  sycamore  from  Sak- 
karah,  five  thousand  years  old,  and  sarcophagi  cov- 
ered over  with  writing  about  the  lamented  Ra-fer. 
Prince  Ra  and  his  relative  Nefert,  in  the  fourth 
dynasty,  sit  serenely  on  stony  seats,  with  their  hair 
of  formal  cut,  and  a  smile  over  their  counte- 
nances,,quite  child-like  and  bland.  Horus,  Osiris, 

403 


404 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


and  Ammon,  with  beards,  and  looking  serious, 
are  top-heavy  with  head  decorations  of  various 
significance.  A  goddess  of  the  twenty-sixth  dy- 
nasty, Thoueris,  is  as  curiously  shaped  as  the  fancy 
of  the  sculptor  could  make  her.  There  is  a  sphinx- 
like  mystery  about  her  head,  v/hich  is  half  hog  and 
half  elephant ;  and  her  ears,  like  the  wig  of  an 
English  judex,  give  her  a  comic  aspect. 

One  of  the  handsomest  of  the  statues  is  that  of 
the  Pharaoh  of  the  Exodus,  Meneptha.  He  wears 
a  head  arrangement  of  lofty  height,  topped  with  a 
big  bottle.  Fancy  meeting  the  Pharaoh  who  "  would 
not  let  my  people  go." 

The  builder  of  the  second  pyramid  is  here,  and 
he  smiles  also,,  as  he  sits  with  his  hands  on  his 
knees  in  supreme  content  at  having  his  stony  im- 
mortalization. So  is  Queen  Amenintis,  from  Kar- 
nak,  a  very  beautiful  and  graceful  woman;  and  near 
by  is  a  cow  goddess,  Hathor,  and  various  funereal 
and  other  symbols,  enough  to  make  one  ponder, 
if  not  smile,  over  the  preparations  civilized  folks 
make  for  permanent  monuments. 

Here  are  rings  and  bracelets  of  the  early  queens. 
Hair -combs,  eggs,  seeds,  fish-hooks,  cribbage- 
boards;  hair-pins,  not  unlike  those  now  in  use,  are 
here,  in  interesting  profusion.  The  glass  eye  of 
the  royal  mummies  follows  you  around,  in  a  suspi- 
cious way,  as  you  look  at  the  decorations  which  they 
once  used  to  astonish,  please,  and  awe.  Comparing 
these  relics  with  the  writings  of  the  Egyptians,  my 
vote  was  in  favor  of  the  latter  as  most  interesting  ; 
but  history  is  not  made  up  of  writing  merely,  and 
here  were  evidences  of  this  elder  world  in  its  daily 
routine  from  life  to  death. 

We  were  accompanied  in  this  visit  by  our  consul, 


BOULAK  MUSEUM— FAREWELL    TO    THE  NILE. 


405 


Mr.  Simon  Wolf,  a  Hebrew  of  the  Hebrews.  To 
him  we  were  indebted  for  an  introduction  to  the 
learned  Egyptologist,  Mr.  Brugsch,  who  was  quite 
communicative,  especially  over  his  new  and  wonder- 
ful acquisitions.  As  we  came  out  of  the  chamber 
where  they  were  arranged  in  order  of  rank,  he  said  : 
"  I  wonder,  if  these  old  dynastic  Egyptians  could 
talk  among  themselves,  what  they  would  say  ?  " 

I  took  the  liberty  of  answering  that  a  portion  of 
them  would  give  Meneptha  some  good  round  Egyp- 
tian rhodomontade  for  his  silly  hardening  of  heart 
and  wasting  of  time  in  following  the  Jews  into  the 
Red  Sea. 

But  it  has  since  occurred  to  me  that  they  would 
rather  have  sermonized  on  the  condition  of  their 
native  land  under  foreign  domination,  and  would 
have  referred  the  problem  to  the  Sphinx  to  solve, 
whether  the  suzerainty  of  the  Porte,  the  intermed- 
dling of  the  French,  or  the  intervention  of  the  Eng- 
lish, or  all  combined,  made  as  good  a  government 
as  when  they  commanded  abject  thousands  to  work 
on  their  monuments,  and  kept  them  good-natured 
on  onions  for  their  work.  Or  would  they  wonder 
what  had  become  of  the  Egyptian  race,  which  Prof. 
Ebers  has  rescued  from  oblivion  by  his  fiction  and 
facts,  since  the  only  representative  left  of  their  old 
worship  and  kinsfolk  are  the  two  hundred  thousand 
Christian  Copts,  who,  in  their  devoted  way,  have 
found  in  the  issue  of  that  race  of  which  Joseph  was 
a  type,  a  Saviour  more  potent  than  Osiris  or  Isis  ? 
Whatever  their  converse  might  be,  they  could  not 
imagine  the  interest  which  an  age  that  has  its  steam- 
boats on  the  sacred  Nile,  its  electric  congress  on  the 
Seine,  and  its  telegraph  all  round  the  world,  could 
take  in  such  dead  and  dried  specimens  of  their  kind 


406  FROM  POLE    TO   PYRAMID. 

as  they  themselves  now  are.  With  the  image  of  the 
strange  tombs  and  coffins,  some  of  them  opened 
within  a  few  weeks,  and  the  lotos  flowers  and  papy- 
rus leaves  almost  as  fresh  as  when,  five  thousand 
years  ago,  they  were  laid  upon  these  embalmed  and 
swathed  bodies,  a  sickly  sensation  followed  me  as  I 
left  the  chamber  of  mummies  : 

"  It  smelt  so  faint,  and  it  smelt  so  sweet, 

It  made  me  creep,  and  it  made  me  cold  ; 
Like  the  scent  that  steals  from  the  crumbling  sheet 
Where  a  mummy  is  half  unrolled." 

This  was  the  last  of  the  objective  points  of  our 
travel  from  pole  to  pyramid.  It  is  supererogation 
to  attempt  to  describe  a  museum  which  has  such 
an  opulence  of  relics,  and  such  interpreters  as  Ger- 
many, France,  and  America  have  given.  To  my 
fancy,  nearly  all  these  kings,  queens,  and  princes  of 
Egypt  are  only  brown  bituminous  bodies,  to  illus- 
trate the  weakness  of  human  control  and  the  vanity 
of  human  ambition ! 

My  first  objective  point  of  travel  has  been  de- 
scribed in  a  volume  of  "Arctic  Sunbeams."  I 
reached  it,  at  the  North  Cape,  amid  the  snows  of 
the  Arctic,  where  there  was  no  night.  My  last 
ends  in  the  land  of  the  sun,  where  Egyptian  dark- 
ness throws  its  shadow  over  millions  of  our  race. 
My  first  began  amid  the  pines ;  my  last  ends  amid 
the  palms.  Not  far  from  the  unseen,  undiscovered, 
and  undiscoverable  pole,  to  the  seen,  undissolvable 
pyramid,  in  a  land  of  eternal  summer,  "  where  all 
except  the  sun  is  set  " — this  rounds  our  travel  ! 

The  little  light  I  have  thrown  over  these  dark 
places  of  the  East  by  these  "Orient  Sunbeams  " 
is  not  unlike  the  electric  light  in  its  worst  condi- 


BOULAK  MUSEUM-FAREWELL    TO    THE   NILE. 


407 


tion.  The  current  is  from  rapidly  moving  magnets. 
It  depends  upon  the  uncertainty  of  horse,  steam, 
water,  air,  or  other  forces,  and  the  slightest  varia- 
tion in  the  revolutions,  or  even  a  ripple  of  a  wave 
or  a  joint  in  the  harness,  causes  that  uncertain 
tremor  in  the  light  whose  sensitiveness  has  not  and 
will  not  be  allayed. 

Heine  once  wrote  a  love  poem  about  a  noble 
pine  in  the  far,  far  north,  which  slept  and  dreamed 
of  a  graceful  palm  beneath  the  tropic  sun,  and 
waved  in  the  rich  luxuriance  of  her  beauty.  It 
was  a  poetic  analogue  of  divided  hearts.  We  have 
more  than  realized  the  analogue  ;  for  we  have  not 
merely  dreamed,  but,  by  traversing  three  zones  in 
which  pine  and  palm  have  doubled  our  delight,  en- 
joyed one  delicious  summer  of  real  romance  and 
experience ! 


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